


The Savior and The Scoundrel

by terreisa



Series: The Swan and Firebird Trilogy [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, Cursed Captain Hook | Killian Jones, F/M, Pirate Emma Swan, The Enchanted Forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 157,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12063849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terreisa/pseuds/terreisa
Summary: Emma has had a few titles attributed to her in her life: princess, captain, pirate but none sat so heavily on her shoulders as Savior. When fate forces her to step into the role prophesied before her birth the only saving she wants to do is to bring back the man she loves. Fulfilling the Prophecy along the way is an additional reward. Sequel to A Crown and A Captain





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally published on ff . net and tumblr and I am now posting it here.

As the green tinged purple smoke cleared she coughed, annoyed, and took in her new surroundings.  The room she found herself in was brightly lit affording her a clear view of what appeared to be a receiving chamber of some sort.   As she scrutinized every detail almost everything she could see stood out as unfamiliar.  There were no candles waiting to be lit once darkness fell, the furniture was made of materials that were unlike any she’d ever seen before, and even her new clothes were bewildering.

 

She tried to change her wardrobe with a flick of her wrist.  When nothing happened after the second and third try she admitted defeat.  The little imp had been as good as his word: they had truly been transported to a land without magic.

 

For the next hour she stalked the room, cataloguing every new discovery and fighting against the small bouts of dizziness as she did.

 

Suddenly a rapping knock sounded at the door.

 

“Madam Mayor?”

 

“Come in,” she commanded.

 

Land without magic or not she had cast the curse with the intent of getting what she deserved.  Being the ruler of whatever situation they had found themselves in was a given.

 

The door opened to reveal the fool of a man she’d kept as errand boy and spy for the better part of two decades.  He hadn’t been one of her flying monkeys in some time but there was still something quite simian about his appearance.  For a moment her dizziness hit a peak and her vision blurred in and out of focus.  She gripped the solidly constructed writing desk behind her until it passed.  When it did she quickly understood what had happened.

 

The man in front of her was Oscar Diggs, the purported Wizard of Oz, but he was also Walsh Baum the appointed sheriff of the town the curse had created.  The vertigo she’d been experiencing was her mind assimilating the changes that had been wrought by the curse.

 

“Ma’am, you wanted the reports of damages and injuries sustained from the storm?”

 

“Yes, and?” she answered authoritatively, knowing any sign of confusion would be seen as weakness.

 

“There’s no structural damage that’s been called in, a miracle considering how much rain and wind that storm brought,” Walsh said with a shake of his head. “As for personal injuries there’s only one.  A man was taken to the hospital as soon as the storm cleared out.  He was unconscious and he’d lost a lot of blood but the doctors say he’s going to live.”

 

“What caused the blood loss?” She asked, feeling a smile threatening to unfurl as a thrill of anticipation ran through her.

 

“Uh,” Walsh seemed to balk at her eagerness for his answer. “He lost his hand, the doctors said it looked as if it was cut off but he was found down by the harbor tangled in rope.  There was no sign of his hand anywhere near and no blood trail leading down to the docks.  Until he wakes we won’t know for sure exactly what happened.”

 

Losing the fight against her grin she clapped her hands together, “Then we should be there when he does.  But first answer me one, tiny, insubstantial question.”

 

“Ma’am?”

 

“What is the the name of the lovely town we find ourselves in?”

 

“Storybrooke,” Walsh answered bewildered. “Mayor Viridans are you feeling okay?”

 

“Storybrooke,” she repeated, ignoring the idiot before her and the gut churning dizziness.  When it passed her smile was wide once more, “It sounds like the perfect setting for my happy ending.”


	2. And Many More

Emma, deposed princess and former pirate captain, agitatedly paced the cabin of the barely familiar ship.  As she made her fiftieth, or perhaps hundredth, turn the queue she had placed her long blonde hair into almost smacked her in the face.  Growling not only at the annoyance her hair provoked but also the slow crawl with which everything seemed to be happening she slammed her hands flat on the desk, upsetting the quill she had left in an inkpot causing dark stains to spread across the maps and sheaves of parchment spread across the surface.  Cursing as she snatched up the quill she was dismayed to see that the wet ink had spared no mercy.  With a deep, calming breath she spread her hand wide over the mess and hoped for the best.

 

She’d been born with magic, a nifty side effect of being conceived from True Love.  At least, that was what she had been told after she’d finally calmed down from making her dinner disappear off her plate when she was three.  It was also what they had told her after the swan incident with Pinocchio when she was six, and the ballgown fiasco when she was thirteen, and in nearly every lesson she’d had with the fairy Blue before she’d been forced to go on the run.  On top of being the sole heir to the throne of Misthaven she was also supposed to be magically powerful.  Both were heavy burdens that she’d had to shoulder from her first breath.

 

Her magic had never been reliable, coming in fits and starts even with the endless drudging lessons with one of the most powerful magical beings in Misthaven.  The abrupt end to her daily practices and the small fact that she had been fleeing for her life hadn’t helped her control.  Then she had been taken to Elsa, Queen of the northern kingdom of Arendelle, and her magic had not only been under her complete control but it had flourished.  Five months later she had backslid almost completely, knowing the reason why and feeling helpless to do anything about it.

 

A low sputtering glow began emitting from her palm and Emma screwed her eyes closed tight in order to sustain and will it to do what she wanted.  After a moment or two she dared to take a peek and breathed a sigh of relief to see everything was stain free instead of worse or gone completely.  She ignored the shaking of one hand as she carefully placed the quill in its holder with the other.

 

Resuming her pacing Emma tried hard not to think about why her magic was unreliable once more or why she had practically commandeered an Arendelle corvette or her heading with said ship but it wasn’t long before her mind betrayed her once again.  She couldn’t help but replay those last moments in what had been her parent’s castle before her world had been torn from her.

 

Having been on the run since she was sixteen there weren’t many things that Emma held dear.  Those that had fled the castle with her, Red, Pinocchio and the others, the Brooke that had been her home for the past eight years, and her parents, both of whom she hadn’t seen in person in over a decade, all held places in her heart.  Yet none of them compared to the prince that had turned out to have a bit of pirate in him, having stolen her heart completely.

 

Killian had been an infuriating pain in the ass when she’d first met him.  His cockiness and self assuredness had only been overshadowed by the very real threat he posed as an agent of Regina’s.  Even when she had been on guard, suspicious of his every word, she had been intrigued by him, almost detrimentally so.  When he had proven himself to be a good man and then later outed as a prince her eagerness to learn more about his character had been the stumbling block that had her falling head over heels for him.  Red had seen it first but it had taken Emma a bit longer to accept it herself.

 

She hadn’t had the time or inclination for romance while she was on the run.  Much to Granny and Red’s disapproval Emma had bucked every royal sensibility when it came to dealings with men.  However she never let herself be tied down to any of the ones she took to her bed for the preservation of her true identity and for the protection of her heart.  The closest to a serious romantic entanglement she’d ever had was with Pinocchio, who was closer to being her brother despite his hopes to be more.  What use was making herself vulnerable when she was constantly looking over her shoulder expecting Regina to be bearing down on her with murderous intent.

 

Continuing to ignore the violent tremor passing through her hand Emma came to a halt at the desk.  With a weary sigh she sat down and decided to once more pour over the maps Elsa had provided her.

 

Despite the time Regina, who Emma now understood was in reality the woman’s sister, Zelena, had been in control of her kingdom not much had changed from the outdated maps Emma had been sailing with for years.  In Zelena’s mad quest for power she apparently hadn’t had an inclination to expand her holdings, something Emma was almost grateful for.  It made her quest much easier when she could find allies that held some sort of power instead of trying to coax people out of the woodwork.  The unsettling rumor that the kingdom of Misthaven lay in ruins, its people missing, was only tempered by the good fortune that Zelena’s curse hadn’t expanded beyond Misthaven’s unchanged borders.

 

Emma herself had almost been swept up in that terrible curse.  Had, in fact, almost allowed herself to be.  Only Killian’s plea, his utter conviction in something he hadn’t believed in only days before, had been able to convince her to do otherwise.  In spite of the pain and uncertainty he had believed that she was the Savior and would somehow save them all.

 

Scoffing Emma pulled the map she needed most out from under the one of Misthaven she had been blankly staring at.  The Bottomless Sea was an unforgiving place and although much of it was uncharted she wanted to ensure she was prepared for whatever was to come.  Especially when she had promised Elsa to return to Arendelle with her ship and her sailors intact.

 

To say that Elsa had been surprised when Emma appeared out of nowhere in a cloud of white smoke was an understatement.  It had taken Emma nearly an hour to explain everything that had happened since her last magical note: Killian disappearing, finding him, planning an ambush on Zelena, having the tables turned on them, the terrible memory of purple smoke pouring out of a cauldron as Killian’s hand was cut off, and being forced to flee from her castle once more as Killian’s last words echoed in her ears.  Elsa had immediately dispatched scouts to determine what had happened, all while bustling Emma back to the rooms she had occupied during her previous visit.  She had refused immediately and forced Elsa to quietly follow her to the rooms Killian had used.  After personally seeing her situated Elsa had left and Emma had allowed herself to break down.

 

By the time the scouts had returned nearly a fortnight later they had already begun hearing rumors of Misthaven’s fate coming from sailors down at the harbor.  It was also the time that Emma had noticed the first signs of her magic misbehaving.  There had been much discussion about what to do resulting with Elsa reluctantly agreeing to allow Emma a ship, men and women to sail with, and the freedom to do as she wished.  The only thing Emma had to do in return was keep Elsa informed as to every decision she made.  A point driven home when the ship had come to a standstill, sails and rudder frozen solid in the middle of the ocean one day when Emma had chosen to sail past a port she had promised Elsa they would replenish their supplies at.

 

At first Emma had been sailing for Misthaven, heading straight for the port closest to her parent’s castle.  In order to do so she’d had to sail past Balliolshire, Killian’s kingdom, and she’d felt an immense guilt for not stopping and explaining in person to his brother, King Liam, what had happened.  Elsa had been the one to send him a message when it had first happened and they had received a response before Emma had left Arendelle but it had lacked any of the personality that she knew the king possessed.  She had promised to herself as she sailed further and further away from Balliolshire that she would face Liam only when she had his brother at her side once more.

 

Three-quarters of the way to Misthaven she’d had a fit of some kind.  She had been alone in the captain’s cabin going over past logs of arrivals and departures from the Misthaven port, given to her by yet another scout of Elsa’s, when she had spotted the name of the ship Killian had traveled on to hunt her down.  The Jewel of the Realm had been the pride of the Balliolshire Navy and Killian had spoken of it affection many times, no matter how much she had teased him about it.  That was the first time her hand had begun to shake, accompanied by a feeling like she couldn’t breathe and a roaring sound that had drowned out everything else.  When she had calmed herself down she had immediately sent word to Elsa that they would be continuing on to the Bottomless Sea instead.  Her hand had stopped shaking, for the moment, and she had tossed the log and all maps of Misthaven’s ports to the side, focusing on finding something she knew she could find.

 

In every port they dropped anchor they had heard the same rumors time and again.  Misthaven was no more, a cursed land that not even the most foolhardy opportunist wanted to cross its borders in order to take a piece for themselves.  No one had escaped what some were calling the Upheaval and even more disturbingly there were whispers that it had cherry picked others, engulfing them in a cloud of purple as they were ripped from their loved ones.  Emma wasn’t sure she believed the curse had the power to do that but there was one thing that persisted in every tale: the curse had taken the people but no one knew where.

 

After a while she had been glad she’d made the decision to skip Misthaven altogether.  While she didn’t know if she would ever be able to handle the sight of her kingdom in ruins she knew she just might be able to with someone she loved at her side.  Her mother was the only person left in the realm that fit the bill.

 

“Captain Swan?”

 

Emma looked up to see Andersen, the captain that had first taken them to Elsa, nervously standing in her doorway.  She had somewhat forgiven him for putting her in restraints the first time they’d met and couldn’t for the life of her figure out why he was fidgeting.  It was with some relief that both her and Elsa had agreed to not let him or the crew she sailed with know she was the Princess of Misthaven, let alone that she had magic.  Andersen’s unease would be that much greater if he had known he was escorting royalty into what was sure to be a battle.

 

“Yes, Andersen?” She asked pleasantly, trying to put him somewhat at ease.

 

“We’ve spotted land, just a speck, but it appears to fit the descriptions.  We’ll have a better idea in about ten minutes,” he informed her, his nerves apparently subsiding as he divulged the information. “Shall we prepare a landing party?”

 

“Not yet.  I want to see this isle for myself,” Emma said with authority.  While she was adrift in every other aspect she still had something to hold her steady.  Being a captain once more seemed to be the only thing holding her together, “Sail us as close as you can but maintain a safe distance.  I don’t want us finding out too late that the of whirlpools surrounding it are stronger than we anticipate.  Or that the tales about a dragon guarding it are true.”

 

The color visibly drained from Andersen’s cheeks and Emma realized why he had been so nervous, “Aye, aye Captain.”

 

Emma almost smiled as Andersen disappeared from her doorway, his steps heavy.  Returning to the small island in the middle of the Bottomless Sea where three of her crew had lost their lives was an immeasurable risk.  Especially when she wasn’t sure if the protection spells around it were still intact.  It was only an encouraging voice, one that sounded so much like Killian’s Balliolshire accent that it caused her chest to ache, that was keeping her going.

 

Taking some time to bolster her confidence and check her magic once more Emma emerged on deck with a spyglass in hand and not a hint of change in the intensity of its shaking.  As she brought it to her eye she gripped it hard, willing her hand to remain still.  Slowly her hand settled and she could see the island clearly.  There were two guards, one slipped quickly through the door at the base of the tower they were stationed in front of as she watched.  They had been spotted.

 

“Well, there goes any attempt at sneaking up on them,” Emma sighed.

 

“Any word on the defenses or how many black guards we could be facing?” Andersen asked from over her shoulder, looking through his own spyglass.

 

“Nothing that wasn’t contradicted by one rumor or another,” she said as she lowered her arm and collapsed the spyglass. “Our only hope is that since Regina has disappeared any supply ships haven’t made their way out here and they’re close to starving.”

 

She didn’t want to think about what that would mean for her mother who was trapped inside.

 

“Grim hopes, Captain,” Andersen said, looking at her steadily. “Do you have a plan?”

 

“Not one you’re going to like.”

 

Twenty minutes later she found herself being led up a rocky embankment with her hands loosely bound in front of her.  The magic that had kept her away before was gone, even the whirlpools had vanished, something Emma was counting as a win.  Even if it was another sign that Zelena was truly gone from their realm.  

 

Andersen was half a pace behind her, his hand sitting solidly on her shoulder.  The rest of the crew was spread across the small island lying in wait for the signal to move in.  Emma hoped they wouldn’t have to use it.

 

“Halt!”

 

Her footing slipped, startled as she was by the voice even though she had expected it.  Looking up she saw that both the guards were watching their progress through their black cowls.  The guards’ uniforms were such that she couldn’t get any kind of information on how they were faring.  Andersen squeezed her shoulder and she quickly remembered she was supposed to look defeated not calculating.

 

“I have a prisoner here, sent by the Queen,” Andersen called out, pushing Emma forward roughly.

 

“Sent by the Queen?  Your ship wasn’t flying her colors,” the second guard called out suspiciously.

 

“We weren’t flying any colors you idiot,” Andersen snapped back derisively.  Emma breathed a small sigh of relief that they hadn’t been flying Arendelle’s flag, “Captain Swan has been seen sailing these waters and you should know she has some kind of vendetta against Misthaven ships.”

 

Emma snorted in amusement, ignoring Andersen’s warning squeeze.  She hadn’t been active on the seas for months and when she had she’d made sure to stay far away from the Bottomless Sea in order to keep Regina from retaliating and hurting her mother to punish her.

 

“We haven’t heard any word of receiving a new prisoner or of Captain Swan’s proximity.  How do we know what you say is true?” The second guard questioned, undeterred.

 

“I have a letter,” Anderson said as he shifted.  Emma assumed he was pulling out the slip of paper that held nothing on it to show the guards, “Now if you’ll be so kind I’d like to get this prisoner off my hands and have something a bit more hearty to eat than my allotted rations.”

 

Watching them closely she saw the guards exchange a lightning fast glance.  Using the uneven rocky path under her feet to her advantage she pretended to stumble back into Andersen.

 

“I was right, they have little to no food left,” she whispered, barely allowing her lips to move.

 

“Are you certain?” He asked, catching onto her ruse and grappling with her as their feet kicked up dust.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

Andersen didn’t answer with words but righted her quickly and pushed her forward.  The guards were watching their ascent closely.  She was encouraged by the fact that they were both seemingly unwilling to leave the other to deal with them.  It meant that they could quickly take them out without any of guards that were inside the tower becoming aware that anything was wrong.

 

When they reached the base of the tower Emma wasted no time.  She let the ropes fall from her wrists as she pulled out the knife she had hidden up her sleeve.  Trusting that Andersen would take care of the other guard Emma focused on the one who had been questioning them.  While she didn’t intend to do any lasting harm she knew that the guards of the tower were particularly loyal to their Queen, someone’s death was almost inevitable.

 

Emma immediately threw her elbow into his face.  He staggered back, already reaching for his sword as she sliced at his arm feeling a grim satisfaction as she hit her mark.  The guard bellowed in pain.  Pressing the advantage of her surprise attack she rushed him, using her momentum to knock him down.

 

The guard recovered much more quickly than she wanted, raining blows upon her sides as they grappled in the dirt and she tried her best to block them and hold on to her knife..  Gasping in pain and shortness of breath she spotted an opening in his assault and drove her knife into the open spot in his armor where the shoulder and arm met.  Wasting no time her hand scrabbled amongst the pebbles and stones until she found a rock of suitable size and weight.  Mustering all her strength she slammed it into the side of the guard’s helmet, hearing his grunt of pain before he went lax beneath her.  Emma waited a moment as she caught her breath, arm raised to repeat the blow, and let out a small sigh of relief when the guard didn’t move.

 

Emma collapsed onto her back between the splayed legs of the unconscious guard.  Breathing hard she clutched at her ribs, gently probing them to determine if any were broken.  Satisfied they weren’t she rolled over and pushed herself up onto all fours.  A bare hand thrust itself into her face and she grasped at it gratefully.

 

“Getting yourself killed was not part of the plan, Captain,” Andersen said flatly as he pulled her to her feet.

 

“It’s a good thing I wasn’t killed then,” she ground out, gritting her teeth against the pain.  When she was sure it wasn’t getting any worse she bent down to retrieve her knife and relieve the guard of his sword, “We need to move.  It won’t be long before their friends grow suspicious.”

 

“Her Majesty charged me with keeping you safe,” Andersen said, a hint of anger tinging the flat tone he’d used before.

 

“And she also told you to follow my orders,” Emma snapped, “So you can either continue on with me or return to the ship.  Is that understood?”

 

Andersen glared at her, his jaw ticking furiously.  She stared back determined to stand her ground.  Forcing the crew to follow her command would be an inconvenience but not as much of one as a full scale mutiny.  She needed Andersen on her side, no matter how infuriating his behavior was.

 

With a heavy sigh he gave her a small nod that she returned.  Glancing behind him she saw that the guard he had fought hadn’t had the good fortune of his compatriot.  The blood seeping from his side had already turned the dirt around him into crimson tinged mud.  She raised her brow at Andersen and he merely gave her a grim frown in return.

 

Leading the way up to the tower Emma cautioned him to remain behind her but to stay close.  She didn’t want to get caught alone if there was an ambush waiting on the other side of the closed door.  Raising her hand she counted down from three before kicking in the door, sword at the ready, only to find there was nothing on the other side.  The torches lining the wall sputtered briefly in the sudden wind but there was no other discernable movement inside.  Stepping cautiously into the tower she strained her ears but heard no movement near her or coming from anywhere above.

 

She signalled for Andersen to keep quiet and continued on into the base of the tower.  Inside was divided up into several cells, all empty, and the last door at the bottom of the stairs was what Emma could only figure was the guards’ quarters.  As she moved she tried to familiarize herself with the weight and length of the blade she had acquired.  It was clearly meant for someone taller than her and she could tell it had been given the minimal amount of care, but she would have to make do.  She wouldn’t be using it for long.

 

As they ascended Emma could see why they hadn’t been met with more guards.  The only torches lit were those lining the stairwell, burning low and guttering in the breeze from the door they had left open.  There was only one other level aside from the ground floor and it too had only housed empty cells.  It seemed the island was a prison of some kind that had been left to ruin but still held some use long after it should have been forgotten completely.  Climbing steadily she wondered what would possess anyone to choose such a secluded and somewhat lonely post.  Her only conclusion was that the chance to earn the favor of the one calling herself the Queen by guarding the realm’s most valuable prisoner could sway anyone’s decision.

 

The moment before she stepped on to the final landing a thought crossed her mind that sent a fissure of fear down her spine.  She had believed once before that she was rescuing a parent, sure of it in fact, and instead had been met by a cruel illusion.  After all that had happened she wasn’t sure she could survive another such blow.  She hesitated, her foot poised above the top step, when the voice that had come to sound so much like Killian’s reminded her that even if it wasn’t her mother it was someone who deserved to be free.  With renewed determination she took the final step.

 

The landing Emma found herself on was surprisingly wide.  Across from her was a single door and in front of that was a lone guard.  She wasn’t sure if they knew exactly what had happened to their fellow guards but judging from the unsheathed sword and defensive stance they had an idea.  Andersen sighed in resignation behind her, giving voice to her own annoyance that the guard hadn’t immediately surrendered.

 

“There’s no need for you to fight us.  We’ll accept your surrender and transport you back to our kingdom as our prisoner but you will be treated fairly.  No matter how you may have treated the prisoner behind that door,” Emma said steadily, rocking on her heels to keep from rushing the guard.

 

Her impatience to discover who she was rescuing would only get her killed

 

“Iffin you think I’mma ‘bout to cow down to the likes of you and get on the Queen’s bad side to boot you’re mad.  I’ll take my chances with the sword rather than have her think I’m disloyal.”

 

With that the guard rushed her.  Emma barely raised her sword in time to block him, her mind suddenly thrown back to the courtyard of Regina’s castle and the the man the guard’s accent had so thoroughly reminded her of.

 

The last time she had seen Will Scarlet he had been wishing her luck in finding Killian after he had snuck away from Regina’s palace.  Will, in turn, had been on his way with others back to Sherwood Forest to recruit who they could in the fight against Zelena.  Like so many others Emma had no knowledge of his fate.  Her hand began to shake and she knew it wasn’t due to the ferocity of the hits she was sloppily blocking.

 

Andersen unceremoniously shoved her aside, knocking her into the wall as he joined the fight.  It was over before Emma could fully gather her wits.  The guard fell to his knees, hunched over Andersen’s sword that had penetrated clean through his gut and out his back.  Without pause Andersen leveraged his foot on the guard’s shoulder and pushed him away as he wrenched his sword free.  The guard hit the ground with a dull thud, dead.

 

“Are you alright, Captain?”

 

Emma knew that he was asking about more than her physical state.  It had been her first episode in the presence of another person.  She found herself at a loss as to how she could minimize the unease that was undoubtedly taking seed in Andersen’s mind.  The slight tremors that continued to shake her hand weren’t helping her think either.

 

“I’m fine,” she gasped, belatedly feeling the aching protest of her ribs.  She seized on the excuse it afforded her, wrapping her arm around her middle as she gingerly stood up, “I didn’t expect his devotion to be so, um, deadly.”

 

“I’m not going to apologize for saving your life,” Andersen stated matter of factly, wiping his blade clean on the dead guard’s pant leg.

 

“And I don’t expect you to,” she said, matching his tone.  She looked at him straight on, “I would have done the same thing.  You’re a member of my crew and I protect my crew, no matter the length of time we’ve sailed together.”

 

Giving her a tight nod Andersen sheathed his sword, “Shall we free the prisoner?”

 

“Yes,” Emma said, unable to say more knowing her voice was as unsteady as her hand had been only moments before.

 

The walk to the door seemed last both an eternity and as quick as a blink of an eye.  There was no lock and no keyhole, merely a brass latch that only allowed those outside the room to open it.  Emma stretched out her hand to open it, pausing only to notice that her hand was shaking again but from nerves not the onset of another episode.  She quickly clenched it into a tight fist and released it, satisfied when it was steady as she reached for the latch once more.

 

Without a sound the door swung open inwards to reveal a cell unlike any she had ever seen.  If she hadn’t been standing on the uneven, creaking floorboards of the broken down tower she would have believed that she was back at her parent’s castle just moments before Regina’s men had stormed in.  It looked just as she remembered her mother’s parlor to be, down to the burn in the rug she’d made when she was four and trying to make a spider disappear.

 

Sitting in the well loved chair that Emma had always found her mother in whenever she had needed her comfort was a woman whose hair was almost completely grey.  For a moment she didn’t recognize the lined face looking up at her with a wide, teary smile and then in the span of a blink she did.  While her mother’s face and hair had changed since the last time Emma had seen her, her eyes were the same sparkling green she still saw in her dreams.

 

“Mom?”

 

“Emma,” Snow breathed as she stood, arms reaching for her.

 

Emma fell into her embrace marveling that they were nearly the same height and somehow her mother’s hug felt just as all encompassing as it had been when she was smaller.  As she tightened her own arms around her Snow kissed her temple and squeezed her harder.

 

“I knew you’d find me,” Snow gently pushed Emma back as her eyes darted across her face.  She gave a tremulous smile as she reached up and lovingly tucked back a lock of her hair before cupping her cheek, “Happy birthday, my darling girl.”

 

Emma stiffened, stunned.  She hadn’t paid attention to the days as they had passed, just waited for the day that the sun would set and she would finally be reunited with Killian.  It hadn’t even occurred to her that her birthday was near.  She was twenty-seven and, if the prophecy was true, a year away from breaking the curse that kept her from him.  With that thought she burst into tears.  The weight of all that had happened was finally too much to bear.


	3. Show Must Go On

“Emma, would you sit, please?  If only for a moment?”

 

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes Emma half heeded her mother’s request by coming to a stop at the desk she had been pacing in front of and that her mother was sitting behind.  The constant need to move was a new habit, one that kept the shake of her hand at bay and had the added advantage of keeping her from finally talking to Snow.  Her guilt at avoiding one of few people she loved more than anything was only offset by her fear of once more growing close to her mother and then losing her all over again.

 

It had only been a week since they had sailed away from Snow’s island prison.  Emma felt as if she had used every excuse, from dealing with the single surviving guard in the brig to writing mundane entries in the Captain’s log, in a vain attempt to escape the inevitable.  She hadn’t had to come up with so many different reasons to avoid a conversation since Red had somehow smelled that she had been in bed with a man decidedly not sleeping when she was seventeen.  As embarrassing as the ensuing lecture about propriety and caution had been she would have sat through ten more just like it rather than explain exactly the type of woman her mother’s darling princess had grown up to be.

 

Emma had given Snow the captain’s cabin and allowed her to move freely about the ship, giving her mother the opportunity to see what she had honed over their separation.  Gone were the refined manners, the docile tone of voice, the dignified poise and in their place were stern commands to be followed, orders and praise equally barked out over the sound of waves and wind, and stalking from stem to stern with sturdy steps and working just as hard as the crew beneath her in rank.  All of that she was proud of, it was the life she had made for herself from the ashes of her old one, and yet it was just the varnished facade of the life she had truly been leading.  The one where revenge was her sole motivation and only Red and Pinocchio had kept her from blackening her heart.

 

When she had escaped from what she believed to be Regina she had just been beginning to understand the ramifications of being the future Queen of Misthaven would have been on her life.  Her lessons in arithmetic had slowly changed from mere numbers to problems involving crop yields and populations shifts, the ones in geography became studies of various kingdom’s resources and accessibility around or through various natural obstacles, and history had shifted from general knowledge of the realm’s past to pointed lessons on diplomacy between their allies and the fragile truce with their enemies.  She had no longer been allowed to travel alone or with only Pinocchio as her companion, instead ordered to take no less than three guards with her at all times and sternly warned against trying to leave them behind.  Then there were the suitors: flattering poetic letters sent with lavish gifts from far away princes, the sons of lords and dukes sent from all corners of their kingdom under the guise of paying their family’s respects to their rulers, and even a few older lords and dukes themselves making a play for power and for a young, attractive wife at the same time.  It had all rankled at her, chains that she hadn’t agreed to binding her, and she had foolishly wished at the time that she could be free of it all.

 

When she was unexpectedly forced into that freedom it was nothing like the fantasies she’d dreamed up as one tutor or another droned on.  She had been running for her life, hiding in caves and under thick bushes with Red and Pinocchio, all while soldiers tore apart villages and burned down farms looking for her.  The first stirrings of vengeance had come as she had stood over a broken doll in the middle of a pothole ridden dirt road leading away from yet another destroyed village.  The people had been in hiding, they could sense them on the edges of the woods and behind twitching curtains, and all Emma could do was stare at the wooden doll, its arm missing and a vicious crack through its roughly carved face.  It was then that she vowed to make Regina pay and not with the lenient punishments her parents had given before.

 

Emma had carried that vow with her as she went from innocent girl to a hardened woman and sloughed off her princess sensibilities to embrace the pirate.  It was the promise she made before she went to sleep at night after successful pillages and when she woke up to news of Misthaven ships on the horizon.  She never harmed the sailors she fought against, knowing that they’re loyalty was keeping them and their families alive.  Instead she hoarded every tale of injustice that reached her ears like the gold she stole pushing them into a place that only she had access to.  For ten years she had kept her righteous fury burning, stoking the fire as more and more reports reached her of Misthaven’s suffering and Regina’s cruelty, waiting for the opportune moment to strike when Killian had sailed self righteously into her life.

 

She had wanted to hate him with every fiber of her being when she had first laid eyes on him.  He had, however, forced her to reevaluate everything she thought she believed in, including herself.  It was as she was falling in love with him that she began to believe that not only could she regain her kingdom but could do so without becoming something she loathed in the process.  Killian had gone on to prove it to her after being dealt his own blows by Zelena’s hand and continuing to be a good man even as he was preparing for a war that wasn’t his to wage.

 

Somehow she couldn’t find the words to explain that it all shaped her into the woman she was, practically a stranger, when she was standing in front of her mother fidgeting like she did every time Snow was preparing to scold her about her unroyal-like behavior.

 

“I’m not the daughter you raised,” Emma blurted out.

 

Snow winced and Emma mirrored her, mentally berating herself for saying the one thing that could drive them further apart.

 

“I know that,” Snow said softly, looking down at her hands.

 

“I mean, I am but not?” Emma winced again.  She resumed pacing, “It’s been a long time and I’ve done things, good and bad, but not exactly what a future queen would do.  Red did her best but we were on the run and there was only so much she could do.”

 

“I know-”

 

“But you don’t.  I curse, a lot, and I eat with my elbows on the table while drinking ale but mostly rum.  I don’t rule over a kingdom but I do run command of a ship.  A pirate ship.  I’m a pirate or I was but I’m also the princess who can remember the proper protocol for greeting foreign dignitaries and which fork goes with which course.  I’ve stolen and been greedy but I’ve also tried to do some good.  I- I just can’t be what you think I am,” Emma finished sadly, once more coming to a stop in front of the desk but not looking at Snow unable to face the disappointment her mother must be feeling.

 

“Emma, sit down,” Snow commanded.

 

Emma sat immediately stunned to hear a tone of voice she hadn’t heard in a long time, even longer than the span of time that she hadn’t seen her mother.  They had been separated for a decade but Snow still seemed to know exactly how to get her to fall in line.  She looked up hesitantly at Snow and saw she was smiling sadly at her.

 

“I may have been locked away from you but I’m still your mother and I love you, no matter what you’ve done.  If you had stopped for a moment and talked to me you would know that,” Snow said it gently but the rebuke still stung. “I want to know who you are now and I want to know what you’ve done since our separation, both the good and the bad.  I just want to get to know you again, sweetheart.”

 

“Captain Swan,” Emma said with a smile, one that grew wider at her mother’s confused look. “When I started sailing I called myself Swan.”

 

“It suits you,” Snow said with a tilt of her head.  A flash of pain clouded her eyes and she frowned, “Your father?  Is he-”

 

“He’s alive, but-” Emma tried to assure her but her voice was unsteady and she could feel the tremors starting in her hand.  She had not only been avoiding telling Snow about her life but about the curse and her role in breaking it, “There was a curse.  Zelena cast it and I’m not sure exactly what it did but we keep hearing that Misthaven is in ruins and everyone has disappeared.  Dad was kept in the castle’s dungeons, he was most likely swept up in the curse just like Kil- just like everyone else.”

 

“Zelena?  What kind of curse?  Emma, what kind of curse?” Snow asked agitated.

 

“I- I don’t know,” Emma said taken aback. “Zelena, she’s Regina’s sister apparently and said she was getting what she deserved.  Her happy ending.”

 

“No,” Snow breathed out sounding horrified. “It’s been so many years, we should have been safe.  I thought we were safe.”

 

“You knew,” Emma said accusingly. “You knew about me being this ‘Savior’ and kept it from me?  Did you know about the curse too?  About what it would do?”

 

“We knew,” Snow said defeated, hanging her head. “The Dark One warned us about a curse that would stop time and take away our happy endings.  We made preparations but it never came.  We never wanted to find out why and just end up provoking Regina into casting it.  Every year that went by where nothing happened we felt relief, joy that we were spared.  Then, I guess, we became complacent.

 

“Your magic was so strong, even when you were a baby.  It was enough of a burden for you to grow up with.  Your father and I decided you didn’t need to know about the prophecy, your fate, when there was nothing to save us from.  Then Regina attacked and we were torn apart.  For the past eleven years I have spent every day wondering if what we did was right, if we should have prepared you better even when we believed we were safe.  I know now that it wouldn’t have mattered, you were always destined to save us.”

 

“Fuck destiny and fate and prophecies that don’t give me a choice.  I didn’t ask for any of this, I don’t want it!  All I wanted was to find you and Dad, to go back home, to be happy with-” Emma paused, fighting against the tears gathering in her eyes.  She had yet to utter Killian’s name aloud since telling Elsa what had happened with Zelena.  She wasn’t about to do so to Snow who knew next to nothing about who she had become, “-to be happy with my life again.  Although, I guess it was never my life in the end, just a pawn being moved about at the whims of others.”

 

“Emma-”

 

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure we’re still on course,” Emma said stiffly.

 

Stalking from the captain’s cabin at a clipped pace she longed for the Brooke.  She knew every inch of her ship and thus every dark corner she could disappear to in order to control her emotions.  Her only knowledge of the ship she was on that benefitted her need for isolation was that there was no one stationed in the crow’s nest.  With determination she made her way there, ignoring the salutes and stares of the crew in her wake.

 

After an hour of what she refused to acknowledge as hiding she climbed back down, windswept and in control of her temper and the shake in her hand.  Snow was nowhere in sight.  Emma took a deep breath and made her way back to the cabin.

 

“We were never explicitly told what the curse did.  The Dark One spoke in riddles, as he’s wont to do, and I was pregnant with you at the time.”

 

Snow began speaking as soon as Emma walked through the door, as if she hadn’t stormed out in a fit of pique.  Keeping quiet Emma sat down and promised herself she would listen.

 

“You have to remember it was a long time ago,” Snow said apologetically, glancing at Emma before focusing on the desk in front of her.  Emma realized she was looking down at a piece of parchment with covered with familiar looping quill strokes, “He said we’d be imprisoned but not in a cell.  Somewhere where time would stop and there wouldn’t be any happy endings.  That’s all he would tell us about the curse.  Then he told us about you, how we had to send you away and you would come back to save us, on your twenty-eighth birthday.  I gave him your name as payment but I don’t know what he was going to use it for.  The curse never came and we had no reason to seek his advice again.  I’m sorry, I don’t know anything more.”

 

“Zelena would only say that it was going to give her the happy ending she deserved,” Emma said shakily, going back to those fateful moments in the library. “She said it was the Dark Curse and crushed a heart to do it.  I barely escaped.”

 

“Where did she cast it?” Snow asked, finally looking up at her.

 

“At our castle.  We tried to stop her but her magic was too… it was too strong,” Emma finished on a whisper, the image of Zelena’s hand deep in her chest flashing before her eyes.

 

“Then we have to go back,” Snow said determinedly.

 

“What?”

 

“There could be answers there or a clue, something you might have missed,”  Snow flipped over the parchment in front of her and grabbed a quill from its holder. She began writing, “We’ll need to determine if there are any other curses that require hearts.  It could help us narrow down exactly what this Dark Curse did.  Write down everything you remember about her casting it: smells, colors, sounds, anything.  When we get there we’ll be able to discover more and possibly what happened.”

 

“I-I don’t want to go back there,” Emma said desperately, a cold panic seizing her.

 

“What?  Why not?  Everything we need to know could be there, perhaps the answers could be in one of the books.  Why wouldn’t you want to go back and find out?” Snow’s brow creased as she peered at Emma confused and with a bit of hurt in her eyes.

 

“I just… can’t go back there.  Not after-” Emma’s voice broke and she found she couldn’t continue.

 

“Not after what, sweetheart?” Snow prodded.

 

“I’ve lost so much in that castle.  First it was you and Dad, our lives, our home.  Then I nearly lost my heart,” Emma patted at her chest, tears gathering. “This stupid, useless thing that keeps beating even after everything,  _ everyone _ , else was ripped away.  We can find the answers somewhere else.  I won’t go back there and risk losing you too.”

 

“What is his name?” Snow asked softly.

 

“Wh-what?”

 

“His name, Emma,” Snow smiled sadly at her. “I may have missed some things in your life but I know love when I see it.  What is his name?”

 

Emma jumped guiltily.  She was sure she had been careful not to mention anyone her mother wouldn’t know.  Especially him.

 

“Kil-Killian.  His name is Killian and he’s gone.  He made me go without him, to leave him behind to suffer whatever that witch did to hi-him an-and I don-don’t know if I can sa-save him.”

 

For the second time since she’d reunited with her mother Emma burst into tears..  Snow rushed to her side and once again gathered her in her arms as she sobbed.

 

Her tears ended as quickly as they started, like a summer squall that passed over the Brooke soaking them to the bone before moving on with a gust of wind.  She was left hiccupping in Snow’s embrace, listening to her whisper reassurances in her ear.

 

“Shh, sweetheart, you’ll find him.  Just like your father found me and I him.  How you found me.  We’ll find everyone, it’s what we do,” Snow murmured as she ran a soothing hand over her hair.

 

“I don’t even know where to start,” Emma said haltingly. “The scouts said that Misthaven was in ruins, no one left, they just vanished.  There’s been no word from anywhere else in the realm that they’ve been seen.”

 

“Then we’ll start with that,” Snow said encouragingly.  She pulled back and gently wiped the tear tracks from Emma’s cheeks, “You can tell me everything on our way back to Misthaven.”

 

“Everything?” Emma asked apprehensively.

 

“Perhaps not everything,” Snow said with a smirk.

 

Emma flushed knowing what her mother was implying but somehow unwilling to share that she hadn’t gone that far with Killian.  A decision she still wasn’t sure if she regretted or not.  Sleeping with him could have given her more memories to hold onto tightly as she tried to find her way back to his side or caused her infinitely more pain knowing exactly what had been torn away.  In the late hours of the night both scenarios kept her awake in her bunk, staring uneasily into the darkness.

 

“The kingdom wasn’t how I remember it.  Even before the Dark Curse.  You, we, need to be prepared for that,” Emma warned Snow.

 

“This isn’t the first time I’ve reclaimed my throne, sweetheart.  We’ll handle the problems as we come across them, not over worry ourselves before then.”

 

She blinked, amazed, at Snow’s confidence, “Then I’ll tell Andersen to set our heading.  It should take us two weeks to arrive at the port closest to the castle.”

 

Snow gave her a wide smile.  Emma returned it hesitantly, still uneasy about the decision to return to Misthaven but knowing in her gut it was the right one.  She stood and moved towards the door, pausing when Snow called after her:

 

“Emma.”

 

She turned back and was surprised to see tears standing in her mother’s eyes.

 

“I know it hasn’t been easy, all this time on the run, fighting back.  I want you to know, from this bandit to you, a pirate captain, that I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become.  You’ll be a wonderful queen someday.”

 

Giving her what she hoped was a grateful smile Emma left the cabin quickly, knowing it seemed like she was escaping.  She had yet to come to terms with her role as some kind of fated magical savior.  Her future as a queen was almost too outlandish to contemplate.  It didn’t escape her notice that her hand had remained steady throughout their conversation.

 

Over the two weeks it took to reach Misthaven Emma did what she hadn’t wanted to do when she had found her mother: she shared her story.

 

It came out in fits and starts.  Snow listened quiet and attentive as Emma told her of how she escaped the castle with Red, Pinocchio and the dwarves, the year or so they tried to live as bandits and then their decision to flee the kingdom altogether.  She laughed as she remembered their first mistake ridden sailing adventure and settled into fond remembrance as she regaled her mother with stories of finding out she had a knack for it, and for attacking Misthaven ships.

 

They were three days out when Emma finally began telling Snow about how Killian came into her life and the whirlwind of events that had happened in the past year.  As the weeks had passed it had been easier for her to talk, to tell things to her mother she hadn’t wanted to at first but as she spoke of Killian she kept his true status to herself.  Not because she was ashamed but because it truly didn’t matter to her that Killian was a royal in his own right.  She merely didn’t want to unnecessarily open up the conversation to her future as queen.  Especially when there was currently no kingdom for her to rule.

 

“I haven’t seen this view in a very long time,” Snow said in a wavering voice as she came up to Emma’s side at the bow of the ship.

 

“Neither have I,” Emma murmured, continuing to look at the Misthaven coastline as it grew larger on the horizon. “I didn’t dare bring the Brooke this close.  Not only because of Regina, or I guess Zelena, but because it hurt too much.  Red didn’t even suggest it, not once.”

 

“It still looks as beautiful as I remember.  The first time I saw our kingdom like this was a year or so before my mother died,” Snow said quietly, almost wistfully.  Emma lowered the spyglass to look at her, “We had been visiting, oh I can’t even remember which kingdom, but we had sailed for weeks and weeks it felt like.  It was the first official trip I’d taken where I had been expected to act as a princess should.  At first I was so proud, happy even, to show just how grown up and proper I was.  By the time we returned and I saw Misthaven like this again I was ready to run off and be travelling minstrel.  My father pointed out I didn’t even know how to play a simple wooden flute.”

 

Snow laughed and Emma joined her, imagining her mother roaming the kingdom with a flute in one hand and her bow in the other.

 

“So much has happened since then.  Almost too much,” Snow sighed sadly. “I never wanted you to experience anything like I had.  I’m so sorry, Emma.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Emma said aghast.  Snow dropped her eyes as if she didn’t believe her, “I never blamed you, not once.  This was all Zelena’s fault and Regina’s too.  They’re the reason for everything we’ve had to deal with, for all of our suffering.  Not you, never you.”

 

Snow hummed, neither in agreement or negation, and turned to look back toward the horizon.  Emma stared unbelievingly at her mother.  She wondered what exactly had been running through Snow’s thoughts during her long imprisonment and what part Zelena had played in shaping them.  One more thing for the woman to answer for once Emma confronted her again.

 

They approached the harbor with caution.  It quickly became apparent to Emma that she’d have to set anchor well outside the safety of the port.  Debris was butting up against the hull as Emma ordered the ship to slow to a crawl.  Even from their position still far out at sea it was all too easy to see the destruction caused by the curse.

 

The entire harbor looked as though a giant had stormed down from his beanstalk and used the ships as his playthings.  Every ship had snapped free of its moorings and only a few were left afloat.  The others were broken and battered, half sunk or smashed to bits contributing to the debris field that expanded with the coming and going of the tide.

 

Through her spyglass Emma saw that the village hadn’t fared much better than the ships.  More rooftops than she could count were collapsed, windows blown out as the glass glittered in the midday sun, signs and even some doors ripped off their hinges laying splintered on the cobblestones or propped up like grave markers.  It was hard to tell what originated from the force of the curse and what was exacerbated by the months that had passed.

 

Aside from the flocks of gulls and a few crows there were no other signs of life.  She had seen plenty of ports after a violent storm and it was disconcerting to not see a single person trying to set things to right.  Most alarming of all was the unnatural stillness in the village.  Even the birds hardly stirred, their intermittent calls pierced the heavy silence that blanketed the ship as they approached.

 

Emma gave the order to drop anchor, “My mother and I will go ashore with a small party.  From there we’ll continue on foot while the others gather what supplies they can to at least make it to a welcoming port.  Hold your tongues about your purpose there, if you must say something explain that you’re making a report for Queen Elsa for new trade routes.  It’s routine and shouldn’t arouse too much suspicion.  After that head straight back to Arendelle.  Andersen is your captain now.”

 

There was a beat of silence before Andersen spoke up, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, your- er- Captain.  Queen Elsa-”

 

“Is fully aware and supportive of this plan,” Emma cut in.  She didn’t need the crew questioning her decision or Andersen’s near slip of her true status. “Prepare a boat.  We leave in thirty.”

 

Leaving the crew to follow her orders she went below deck.  Snow was close behind and they moved about the captain’s cabin in relative silence.  It was only when Emma noticed Snow fiddling with the bow and quiver full of arrows she had given her that she paused.

 

“Emma, are you  _ sure _ that you don’t want a few members of the crew to come with us?” Snow asked, not for the first time since Emma had told her of the plan.

 

“Mom, I’ve told you,” she said with waning patience. “While I trust them they’re ultimately loyal to Elsa and Arendelle.  I won’t drag them into this by ordering them to remain at my side.  Not when they have the chance to return to their families with stories to tell of their time with us instead of scars.”

 

“This isn’t only our fight, Emma.  You don’t need to do this alone,” Snow argued.

 

“I’m not doing it alone, I have you,” Emma said with a wide grin that only faltered slightly when Snow frowned at her.  She slung her pack over her shoulder, “They should be ready for us.”

 

She turned and left the cabin before Snow could respond or argue further.  The last thing she wanted to do was get into a fight with her mother over something she wasn’t willing to budge on.  Especially when they’d have no one but each other for company for the foreseeable future.

 

The boat was ready when Emma emerged on deck.  She was relieved.  If Andersen had decided to go against her orders she would have had to resort to drastic measures.  It wouldn’t have turned out well for any of them or her friendship with Elsa if she’d had to use her magic to guarantee that she’d make it to shore.  Before she could praise their efficiency Andersen pulled her away from the bustling on deck to the somewhat quiet helm.

 

“I’m going to put in my report to Queen Elsa that I am thoroughly against this plan.  It’s a reckless, dangerous, and absolutely foolish course of action.  Even more so when you refuse to elaborate what you intend to do once you leave that village.  You and your mother are the last of your line.  Your priority should be restoring your kingdom and securing your legacy.  Not frolicking off into the woods on some sort of fool’s errand.”

 

Emma couldn’t have been more shocked if he had slapped her.  Andersen had quickly figured out who Snow was when they had rescued her and subsequently realized what that made Emma.  He had tried to confront her about it multiple times over the weeks but she had rebuffed him every time, thankful that he had kept his revelations to himself.  She could see that it had been a colossal mistake on her part.

 

“How  _ dare _ you speak to your captain and heir to the throne of Misthaven in that way!” Snow’s voice resounded from across the deck, every syllable ringing with authority.  Emma thought she could hear the commanding tone echoing throughout the village. “You are meant to follow orders without question, are you not?”

 

“Ye- yes, Your Majesty,” Andersen stuttered, clearly caught off guard by Snow dropping all pretense and dressing him down as the Queen of Misthaven.

 

“You have insulted not only my daughter and myself but your own Queen as well with your assumptions as to what should or shouldn’t be done.  When your crew has returned with what supplies they’ve found you will leave and never return under threat of imprisonment,” Snow’s green eyes snapped with anger as she looked over the crew that was watching her with trepidation. She turned back to Andersen, “You are hereby banished from Misthaven by my order.  Is that understood?”

 

“Yes Your Majesty,” Andersen said weakly, ashen and swaying slightly as though he might faint.

 

“Good,” Snow said tersely.  She made her way over to the rowboat that was waiting to be launched, “Shall we?”

 

Emma gaped at her mother as she climbed gracefully into the boat.  The crew scrambled to their positions, four of them joining Snow as the others prepared to lower the boat to the water.  Without sparing a glance at Andersen Emma made her way across the deck and was stunned to see Snow trying to hide a proud grin.  She clambered into the boat with less finesse than Snow did and signaled for them to be lowered, trying very hard not to catch her mother’s eye because she knew the moment she did she would start laughing and most likely never stop.

 

Her mirth died the instant the rowboat touched the water.  The view they’d had of the destruction from aboard the ship had been removed, even as they had slowly sailed through it.  Emma felt as if she was in the heart of it as the sailors in charge of the oars began to row them away from the ship and towards the shore.  They had no choice but to move through the water slowly as Emma and the two not rowing bent over the sides of the boat to push debris out of their way.  She couldn’t look at Snow and the tears that were falling steadily from her eyes.

 

It took over an hour for them to make it to shore and to find a suitable place to unload themselves.  Nearly every pier in the harbor was gone, only thick wooden pilings sticking out of the water to indicate where they had once been.  Finally she spotted a ladder that led to the water and ordered them moor the boat there.  The shortest among them would have to jump to reach the bottom rung but it was better than nothing.

 

She was the last to climb the ladder and was therefore the last to face what remained of the village.  Killian had told her of his small adventure to sneak on the Jewel when he had last been in Misthaven and she had asked him to describe the village in as much detail as he could remember.  His words had painted a full and vibrant picture in her mind.  To see the stark, broken reality in front of her felt like a knife to the stomach, the sharp bloom of pain in her gut that radiated a pulsing sick heat over her body.

 

They picked their way through the village carefully, worried that any wrong move might cause everything to collapse.  Without many of the signs indicating what building originally housed what they cautiously investigated every one slowly accumulating small jars of pickled goods that had yet to turn.  It was far from enough but Emma was confident with rationing and favorable winds the ship and its crew would make it to the next port without too much suffering.  For her and Snow, however, she hoped that the game in the woods would be far more plentiful.

 

It was late afternoon by the time they had scoured through all the promising looking buildings.  The road leading out of the village was clear, something Emma found oddly fitting as she stared off to where it disappeared into the forest.  Snow cleared her throat delicately beside her bringing her focus back to the group.

 

“This is- uh- where we’ll part ways,” Emma said hesitantly.  She was no longer their captain and even though they knew she was a princess she wasn’t exactly sure she wanted to start ordering people about as one.  She looked at the four sailors in front of her, “I know your perception of who I am has changed but I want you to know that all of you, along with your fellow sailors, were one of the finest crews I’ve sailed with.  Give my regards to the others and tell them I wish them smooth sailing back to Arendelle.”

 

“Andersen’s banishment does not extend to anyone else,” Snow chimed in quickly with a genuine smile. “If any of you reaches the rank of captain your ship will be well received here.  Once we’ve restored everything to how it should be, of course.”

 

Three of the sailors shuffled their feet.  Emma couldn’t tell if it was because they were uncomfortable with Snow’s invitation or if they were just eager to return to the ship.  The fourth was looking at Snow with a curious tilt to her head.

 

“Go ahead and go back,” Emma said genially.  She kept an eye on the curious sailor, “If you make good time you’ll be well on your way to a more bountiful port before night falls.”

 

“I’d like to remain behind and continue on with you, Your Highness,” the fourth sailor said switching her gaze to Emma.

 

“I won’t have you abandoning your post, sailor,” Emma said sternly. “You’ve sworn to serve Elsa- Queen Elsa- as a member of her Royal Navy and you’ll continue to do so.  Understood?”

 

“All due respect, Your Highness, but I’ve made no such vow.  I was hired on by Andersen as an able body that could follow orders and had some sailing knowledge.  My allegiance is not to Arendelle or her Queen,” the woman said as she squared her shoulders to stand tall in front of her.

 

Emma regarded her carefully.  Her face wasn’t a familiar one.  Not from her time sailing through various ports and cities or from her long lost life as a princess where people of all statures paraded through the castle halls.  She was older than Emma by about ten or so years with light brown hair and while she was pretty it wasn’t a face that would catch someone’s eye and hold their attention.  Curiously the only thing that truly stood out about her was the barely hidden pain in her dark brown eyes.  One that Emma was almost certain had surfaced the moment they had stepped foot on dry land.

 

“Who is your allegiance to then?” Emma asked slowly, already guessing what the woman’s answer would be.

 

“I was born and raised in Misthaven. My loyalties are with you and your mother,” the woman bowed her head towards Snow respectfully and then looked back at Emma. “I’d like to help restore the kingdom to the one I remember.  The one I loved.”

 

“It won’t be easy,” Emma said bluntly, ignoring her mother’s frown. “There are things we won’t be able to tell you and the things we do will become your burdens to bear with us.  If we allow you to come with us you need to trust us with your life as we’ll trust you with ours.  Do you understand?”

 

“I do,” the woman answered without hesitation.

 

“Good,” Emma gave her a grim but genuine smile.  She turned to the other sailors, “You’re dismissed.  Unless of course someone else wants to come along.”

 

She was amused and unsurprised when they shook their heads almost in unison.  They gave her and Snow perfunctory bows before beating a hasty retreat back towards the docks, the sound of clinking jars accompanying them as they went.  Emma watched them go with only a hint of envy that they could so easily choose which path for their future to take  She banished the thought quickly before her hand could start to tremble.

 

“What’s your name?” Snow asked.

 

“Grace, Your Majesty,” the woman answered, bobbing down into a small curtsey.

 

“None of that now,” Snow said, waving her hand. “No curtseys, bows or ‘your majesties’.  Not with what we’re about to face.  Call me Snow.”

 

“When was the last time you were in Misthaven?”  Emma broke in before Snow could offer Grace a cup of tea they had no means of providing.

 

“Almost two years ago.  I spent some time in Camelot and Balliolshire before heading to Arendelle,” Grace answered quickly, obviously eager to prove she was going to be helpful in any way she could.

 

“Well then congratulations, Grace, you’ve just become Misthaven’s royal historian.  Or should I say only historian?” Emma joked, grimacing as it fell flat.  She sighed, “Tell us all you can remember while we walk.”

 

“Where are we going, Captain?”

 

Emma smiled, glad that Grace hadn’t exactly followed Snow’s order, “Home, of course.  If I remember correctly you’ll have a day or two to tell us what we’ve missed while we’ve been gone.”

 

“And when we get there?” Grace asked cautiously.

 

“When we get there,” Emma repeated quietly looking to Snow for support.

 

Her mother gave her a watery smile as she adjusted the bow resting across her body.  Emma turned to look at the road that led towards the castle, pushing back the memory of the last time she’d seen it when Killian had been at her side.  It was too painful to continue otherwise.

 

“When we get there,” Emma said once more with strength behind her words, “That’s when we really start getting our hands dirty.  Still up for joining us?”

 

“Absolutely,” Grace said with conviction from behind her.

 

“Then let’s get going.  We still have some daylight to take advantage of.  It would be a shame to waste it.”

 

Taking a deep breath Emma started down the road.  The first few steps she still felt the urge to turn around and return to the ship with the other sailors, contention with Andersen be damned.  Then she heard the confident footsteps of Snow and Grace following her and she realized that for better or worse she had chosen her path long before she even realized there was a choice to be made.  Her path would always lead her to Killian and she would be damned if she allowed anything, even herself, to get in her way.


	4. Can't Go Home Again

Grace turned out to be a wellspring of information.

 

As they walked one of the lesser traveled roads leading to Misthaven’s castle Emma and Snow listened as she spoke of the things she had seen, not only in the months since Zelena’s curse but over the years the witch had been ruling their kingdom.  Many of the things Grace told them Emma had seen to some extent herself.  The people fleeing the kingdom because of raids on their villages, of being unable to pay the taxes leveled by the Lords thriving under the Zelena’s rule and coming close to starving as a result, and of those that died for nothing more than displeasing a black knight or for daring to speak their mind.

 

While Emma had known what transpired in the kingdom her mother had not and every tale seemed to strike her as if it were an arrow, leaving her bleeding and nearly prostrate from the volley of blows.  She could tell Snow was willing to hear more but Emma knew that she wouldn’t be able to bear it.  Before Grace could launch into another tale of woe Emma hurriedly suggested that they make camp.  The shorter days of autumn would have normally aggravated her when she was trying her hardest to reach a goal but she found it almost a relief that the sun was setting at an earlier hour.  It would give her heart and mind that much more time to prepare herself before setting eyes on the castle.

 

“I’ll see what game is still left in my woods,” Snow said with what Emma knew was feigned enthusiasm.

 

“I shall have a fire ready for you when you return, Your Maje- I mean, Snow,” Grace said, a dull flush reddening her cheeks.

 

“I’ll get some water,” Emma chimed in. “Best to do it now so we can be on our way first thing tomorrow morning.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Snow agreed quickly, passing over her water skin.  She gave Emma a wan smile, “It’ll be nice to drink our waters again.  They were always the sweetest in the realm.”

 

Before Emma could react Snow turned on her heel and walked quickly into the woods, her head held high but her hands clenched into fists.

 

“I shouldn’t have spoken so freely,” Grace murmured, sounding full of regret.

 

“You did nothing wrong,” Emma said gently. “I’d already told her some of it but not everything.  She would have found it all out sooner or later.”

 

“But not from you?” Grace asked quizzically.

 

Emma looked down at the ground, hoping to avoid Grace’s inevitable judgement, “No, not from me.  I already broke her heart by growing up without her, I couldn’t do it again by telling her how far her kingdom has fallen.”

 

“That was Regina’s doing, not yours,” Grace spit out vehemently.

 

Surprised at the vitriol in her voice Emma looked up and saw a fire in Grace’s eyes.

 

“There’s something you’ve kept from us,” Emma said narrowing her eyes. “What is it?”

 

“Nothing, Captain, I’ve held nothing back,” Grace said resolutely, a stubborn tilt to her jaw.

 

Despite the lie Emma was impressed.  Whatever Grace was hiding had made her into an excellent liar but not so great of one that Emma couldn’t suss it out.  It was a trick of hers, to be able to spot a lie no matter how inconsequential. She wasn’t sure if it it was tied to her magic or not but she’d employed to her complete advantage as a pirate and even more so in finding true allies in her travels.  It was why, among so many other tiny things, she had come to trust Killian.  He had told her lies, of course, but they had never been intended to harm or coerce her into trusting him.  If anything they had mostly been to protect her, aside from his early lies about who he truly was.

 

“You’re lying,” Emma said flatly.  Only a slight tick in Grace’s jaw indicated she was right as usual, “We can either dance around this until I have to make threats I don’t want to make or you tell me now and save things from becoming awkward.”

 

Planting her hands on her hips Emma watched as Grace wrestled with herself.  Whatever it was Emma somehow knew it was something deeply personal, something that Grace had probably never truly shared with anyone else.  She dropped her hands and started gathering wood for a fire in order to give Grace the time and space she needed.

 

“I don’t really remember my mother,” Grace started haltingly after a few moments.  Emma looked up at her and saw she was hugging herself tightly, “She died when I was little and I never found out why, it hurt my father too much to talk about it.  He raised me as best he could but we never had a lot, had to scavenge in the woods so we’d have enough to eat sometimes.  We made do but we were happy.  I was happy.

 

“Regina came one day when I was ten in her fancy carriage, reeking of wealth and power.  Papa wasn’t the same after she spoke to him.  A few days after her visit he left promising he’d come back.  I haven’t seen him since.”

 

As Grace took in a shuddering breath Emma did some quick calculations.  She figured Grace’s father had to have disappeared during the time Regina had been been on the throne, when her mother had been a bandit and her father a shepherd.  Which meant she hadn’t see her father for nearly thirty years making Emma’s separation from her parents seem paltry in comparison.

 

“When I was old enough I tried to find him,” Grace continued, “but it was as if he had vanished that day and even worse it felt as if he had never existed.  I never gave up believing he would come home for tea, like he promised.  Even after I stopped looking and moved on with my life.

 

“Your parents had brought Misthaven back to prosperity and things were good for a while.  I married, had children of my own, a life I where I was happy.  Then Regina came back.”

 

Emma wanted to childishly cover her ears with her hands and refuse to hear the rest.  She could see the pain and heartbreak washing over Grace in waves.  Her only consolation was that Snow wasn’t anywhere nearby to hear what she knew would inevitably come next.

 

“We didn’t know what had happened until we woke up to the sound of Regina’s men pounding on our door, demanding us to let them in.  As soon as my husband opened the door they forced their way in.  They wouldn’t tell us what they were looking for.  They just started searching our home, throwing what books we had out the door, dumping out anything that held more than a thimble’s worth, upended every piece of furniture.  When they grabbed our children to look under the bed they were on, that’s when my husband had had enough.

 

“He didn’t even have a chance to defend himself,” Grace said, her breath hitching. “Both of the guards’ swords were drawn and through him before he could take a single step.  My children were screaming and I- and I could- couldn’t ge- get to- to them!”

 

Grace broke down completely, dropping to her knees and curling into herself in her pain.  Emma rushed to her side.  She had heard similar stories over the years, too many of them, but they had always come from the mouths of others, never from the one who suffered personally.  As she kneeled in the dirt with Grace desperately clinging to her in grief she felt the familiar stirrings of vengeance in her blood that she tried to tamp down.  She was so upset for Grace and at her own weakness she nearly missed what Grace was gasping out repeatedly.

 

“They took them and I couldn’t save them.  They took them and I couldn’t save them.”

 

Emma’s stomach dropped like a cannonball, “Your children?  Grace?  Grace did they take your children?”

 

“They were crying.  I tried to get to them.  I tried!” Grace pulled away from her suddenly and angrily dashed at the tears tracking down her cheeks. “One of them stabbed me while the other dragged my children away.  I could hear them screaming for me as the guards left me to die.

 

“I was found much later, barely alive.  By the time I was well enough to move on my own any trace of my children was gone and Regina had a stranglehold on the kingdom again.  I have  _ never _ stopped looking for them but in my travels I’ve found others who suffered as I had.  We banded together, starting fighting back, growing in numbers as we began to find allies outside of Misthaven.  I volunteered to find them and lead them, to band them together, with the hope that some word of stolen children would reach me.

 

“That’s why I left,” Grace paused and looked Emma dead in the eye. “I was also following the rumors, whispers really, that Captain Swan was really Princess Emma.  That she, that you, were finally ready to fight for us.

 

“So I took my small band of people with me to Arendelle where you were last spotted.  We missed you by a week.  I sent nearly everyone on to Misthaven as intended while I remained behind to try and gain an audience with Queen Elsa.  The day I was to meet with her was they day you returned and the people of Misthaven disappeared.  I offered my services and I eventually ended up right where I had intended to be: by your side.”

 

“And your kids?” Emma asked trying desperately to ignore the twitching of her fingers.

 

“They’re not so much kids anymore, they’re fifteen now,” Grace chuckled humorlessly. “If Jack and Jill were in Misthaven they’ll be wherever the rest of them have gone.  Which is the true reason I wanted to remain with you.  You’re my best chance at finding my children.”

 

“Why would you think that?” Emma questioned sharply as the twitches turned into tremors.

 

“Because of your family motto,” Grace said simply. Emma stilled in surprise, “Everyone in the kingdom knows how your mother and father always found each other, no matter how often they were torn apart.  Your father was in Misthaven when the curse happened.  You and the Queen won’t rest until you find him and everyone else.”

 

“Don’t let her hear you calling her Queen,” Emma chided absently.  She didn’t know how to feel about the profound relief that Grace hadn’t called her the Savior and instead distracted herself by standing and edging in the direction where she could hear a stream bubbling, “I should get the water.”

 

“Captain?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What should I tell, um, Snow?” Grace nodded her head in the direction Snow had walked off in. “If she wants to know why I’m here?”

 

“The truth.  You’re looking for your children,” Emma said solemnly. “She’ll understand if you don’t want to say anything more than that.”

 

Grace gave her a grateful smile.  Emma’s one in return felt more like a grimace and she quickly escaped into the woods before Grace could start thanking her for things she wasn’t sure she could accomplish.

 

The stream wasn’t nearly as far as she hoped.  Her thoughts were still a tangled mess when she broke through the brushes along the bank, nearly planting her foot in the burbling water.  Without warning the memories of the last time she’d waded in a stream assaulted her.  As the ghost of Killian’s laughter sounded in her ears she plopped down onto the bank despondently.

 

Snow and Grace’s belief in her was overwhelming after weeks of beating herself down and yet not enough after months of the unwavering faith Killian had shown in her.  The were both certain that she’d find a way to restore everything, to bring the kingdom back to its former glory and reunite all the loved ones who had been forced apart.  What they were less forthcoming with was an actual plan to accomplish anything.  While Emma could admit that the castle was a good place to start but couldn’t quite bring herself to get her hopes up that any answers would be waiting for them there.

 

Distractedly tossing pebbles into the stream she let herself go back over what Grace had told her.  She had suffered not once but twice at the hands of usurpers to the kingdom.  While Grace wasn’t aware that two different women had been responsible for her misery Emma did and the ember of anger that she’d tried to snuff out earlier flared back to life.

 

Killian had told her once, challenged her really, that she wouldn’t truly hurt him.  That she didn’t want his, or anyone’s, blood on her hands.  To an extent he had been right.  She had let men go free when others would have killed them and be done with it.  Yet she was also not so innocent to have spared every life that had hung in the balance at the tip of her sword.

 

She had once planned for Regina’s blood to add to her already dripping hands.  Her feelings on Regina had changed somewhat but not enough to not still ache for recompense.  Zelena on the other hand held no such sway over her.  It was only right that the witch pay for her atrocities the way Emma had intended Regina to pay for hers.

 

With a particularly vicious throw and the unsatisfactory plunk of stone in water she tried to ignore the voice that had once sounded like her mother, imploring her to remember that everyone deserved a second chance.  To hear it in Killian’s voice somehow made her feel like she was disappointing more than herself with her stubborn resolve for vengeance.

 

Emma picked herself up, knowing she’d spent far too long at the stream to merely be filling their water skins.  After doing just that she took a moment to splash her face with the cold water.  It felt remarkable against her heated cheeks and she made the decision to linger a bit longer to wash the dirt and remnants of sea salt from her face.  She figured she’d suggest for Snow and Grace to do the same to waylay their concern for the length of her disappearance.

 

Dabbing the excess water from her face with the hem of her shirt she sighed knowing she’d keep finding excuses to remain at the stream if she wasn’t careful.  As she blinked away the stubborn drops clinging to her eyelashes a flash of light danced in front of her eyes quickly before disappearing.  Confused by what could cause it she squinted, focusing closely on where it had been and was surprised when it flashed again to her left.  She spun quickly to face it and was startled to find a large snowflake hovering a hairsbreadth away from the tip of her nose.  Sighing she held out her hand and watched with trepidation as it floated down to land on her palm and instantly transformed into a missive from Elsa.

 

_ Emma, we agreed that you would have use of what resources Arendelle could provide with the promise that you would keep me informed of your movements.  A simple ‘found my mother, returning to our kingdom’ is barely within the scope of our agreement, as you are well aware.  I’m certain that when this reaches you, no matter how fast it flies, you will have already made headway into the heart of Misthaven but that does not absolve you of our understanding.  Do not forget that the fate of your kingdom directly affects the fate of others in the realm. _

 

_ I am glad you’ve found your mother, please don’t think I’m not.  I understand if you don’t answer me at once but I will expect one of your birds when you reach the castle.  Safe travels. _

 

The moment Emma finished reading the letter dissolved into frigid water that cascaded through her shaking hands.  She had known that Elsa wouldn’t have been satisfied by her bare bones report but she hadn’t expected to be reprimanded for it, let alone burdened once more with the knowledge that everything was on the line.  Her refusal to fully shoulder the weight of the realm’s fate had been a constant sticking point between the two of them.  Elsa had never called her Savior outright but Emma knew she had bitten it back more often than not.

 

The worst part was she couldn’t be angry with Elsa, not truly.  While no one had dared to enter Misthaven with the purpose of taking control of the kingdom the absence of the people and their ruler left a massive void.  Before Emma had left Arendelle trade between kingdoms had begun to suffer as well as tensions rising between allies that had seemingly only been friendly under Zelena’s rule.  A fact Emma had studiously ignored.  Just as she had ignored the one time Elsa had implied that merely stepping onto the throne would suffice.  That a figurehead was enough to quell the unrest even if the people she was meant to be ruling were still missing.  Emma had stormed away from the table and refused to speak to Elsa for three days.  Only Anna’s pleading on her sister’s behalf had convinced Emma that that idea had been abandoned completely.

 

After absentmindedly drying her hands on her already wet shirt she adjusted the water skins hanging from her shoulder and headed back towards where she had left Grace.  The castle was still at least a day and half’s walk away, she had time before she needed to respond to Elsa.  Time she needed to ensure her words would ease worries and not cut to the bone.

 

The sun was sinking below the treeline when she spotted Grace through the trees.  She had a decent sized fire going and Emma could faintly smell meat roasting over it.  Grace shifted slightly revealing a seated Snow.  Emma could see that while she was listening attentively to Grace she was also carefully scanning the forest, no doubt waiting for her return.  Bolstering herself with a deep breath and curling her lips up into a passable smile she closed the distance between them.

 

“Emma!” Snow called out the moment she spotted her.

 

Emma felt her fake smile slip a little at the naked concern in her mother’s voice.  She wondered how quickly Snow had made her kills and rushed back to their camp only to find that she hadn’t returned yet.  Guilt flooded through her as she realized that, for Snow, the dread of being ripped apart once more most likely outweighed every other concern.  Even if it would be to the detriment of her own safety.

 

“Sorry, I- uh- didn’t realize how long I was gone,” Emma said sheepishly.  She hooked her thumb over her shoulder, “The stream isn’t far if you want to go freshen up a bit.”

 

“I think I will,” Grace said, pulling Emma’s attention away from her mother.  Her eyes were red rimmed leading Emma to believe she needed more of an escape than a wash, “Feel free to start eating without me, though, I don’t intend to be long.”

 

“Nonsense,” Snow said with a wave of her hand.  Her brow furrowed momentarily, there and gone as fast as lightning, lost in an understanding smile, “We’ll wait as long as needed.  We won’t be going any further tonight, right Emma?”

 

“Uh, no,” Emma said swiveling her head to look between the two women. “This is as good a place as any to stay tonight.  We still don’t know what was left behind from the curse and I’d rather not be caught unawares in the dark.”

 

Grace and Snow regarded their surroundings warily as Emma bit back a laugh.  She was pretty sure the only fierce creatures around were the two rabbits on the spit over the fire.  Her stomach grumbled in anticipation and she smiled sheepishly as the women looked at her with sharp eyes.

 

“Erm, sorry that was me,” she said meekly, feeling heat rush into her cheeks.

 

“I’ll just be quick about it then,” Grace said with a laugh as she turned in the direction of the stream.

 

“Keep walking straight on, you can’t miss it,” Emma called after her, satisfied with the little wave thrown over Grace’s shoulder.

 

“Will we make it there by tomorrow?” Snow asked feigning a casual air as she tended to the rabbits.

 

“Maybe,” Emma said slowly.  She was certain they could make it to the castle but she was less impatient than Snow to get there, “We’d have to leave at dawn and make no stops along the way.  I’d rather not push ourselves that hard after being on the water as long as Grace and I have and with your imprisonment-”

 

“I can handle it,” Snow said dismissively, an eager spark in her eye.

 

Emma was suddenly struck by the memory of Killian trying to temper her own eagerness to alight to Regina’s castle to find her father.  It twisted her mouth into a frown, at her own past behavior and her mother’s present one.

 

“We’ll go along as fast as the slowest of us is comfortable with.  We’ll get there Mom, no need to exhaust ourselves doing it.”

 

Snow gave her a smile that was a little too wide with a nod of her head.  She didn’t want to push her mother into a fight over it so she let it go, settling on the log her mother was seated upon and watched the flames dance into the oncoming night.

 

In the end they reached the castle as the sun was setting the next day.  Their quick arrival had been spurred on by the fast pace set by Snow, much to Emma’s chagrin.  She had tried to temper her mother’s pace multiple times throughout the day but she had been rebuffed every time.  In turn Grace had told them more about what happened in the kingdom during their absence to fill the silence as they walked.  The tales were lighter than the ones she had told the previous day.  Emma wasn’t sure if it was for their peace of mind or her own.

 

The first glimpse of the castle brought her up short.  It had been in the dead of night when she had first returned with Killian but even in the darkness of that night the grandeur of her childhood home had remained.  The stone structure on the water below their lookout only brought the word decimated to her mind.  Towers had collapsed, as had several walls, she could see scorch marks from where a fire had licked at the lintels of several broken windows, and it looked as though the high bridge leading to the front gate was barely connected to the shore.

 

As much as the sight caught her by surprise Emma pushed down the heartache as she began to figure out how they would get into the castle.  The door she had used to sneak in with Killian was only accessible from the bridge and the secret entrance she’d used years before to escape Zelena could only be reached by a boat they didn’t have.

 

“How?” Snow gasped out.

 

“The curse, Zelena cast it in the library,” Emma said, dismayed to see her mother blinking back tears. “We saw what it did to the harbor and it’s leagues away.  The castle didn’t stand a chance.”

 

“With that much damage it’ll be a miracle if we find anything of use to us,” Grace said dejectedly, scowling as her eyes scanned over the castle.

 

“No,” Snow said vehemently. “I refuse to believe that there is nothing here for us.  We have to have hope.”

 

“Without a boat we’ll have to swim to the door,” Emma sighed, not willing to admit she agreed with Grace. “I’d like to wait until tomorrow though.  The water won’t be freezing but it won’t be anywhere close to warm either.”

 

“Maybe we don’t have to swim,” Snow cast out a bit wildly. “We don’t know how damaged the bridge is.  It could still be somewhat passable!”

 

“Mom-”

 

“Or perhaps there’s a boat hidden along the shoreline-”

 

“Mom,” Emma interrupted quickly before Snow could lose herself in her fervor. “I  _ know _ you feel that all the answers will be in there but we can’t risk trying to find a way in when it’ll be dark soon.”

 

“You don’t even want to try?  Emma, we’re here now and we  _ can _ find a way in.  We still have time before the sun fully sets.”

 

“No!” Emma’s voice rang out, startling all three of them and a flock of birds that erupted out of a bush to her right.  She gestured angrily at the ruins of the castle, “I will not risk our safety by rushing in there without having an idea of what could be waiting for us.  Not again!”

 

“Emma,” Snow said brokenly.

 

“We make camp tonight and figure out our way in tomorrow morning,” Emma said forcefully in a tone that brokered no argument. “Grace, I want a fire going by the time I return.  Gather what berries or edible plants you can find, we don’t know the state the kitchens will be in.”

 

“Yes, Captain,” Grace said agreeing to the orders quietly.

 

“Emma-” Snow repeated softly.

 

“Not now. Just… not now,” Emma said harshly. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

Resolutely ignoring the look of hurt on Snow’s face she marched forward, not quite at a run but close enough.  She hated herself for pulling rank and then storming of in a tantrum.  It was something her sixteen year old self had done often until Granny and Red had broken her of the habit.  Being back with her mother in the shadow of their ruined castle had her falling back into her old ways.

 

As she crashed noisily through bushes with no destination in mind she was well aware that the true reason she had become so upset had nothing to do with Snow’s insistence to find a way in that day.  Seeing the place where Zelena had so thoroughly defeated her, the terrifying destruction of the ancient stone edifice, and not knowing where the curse had taken the people she loved had broken her.  Emma wanted to do nothing more than to take a bite of a poisoned apple or prick her finger on a cursed spindle and sleep until the nightmare she had found herself in was over.  The fact that only a True Love’s kiss would wake her only heightened the appeal, because then she would open her eyes to the glitter in Killian’s cerulean ones.

 

Emma gritted her teeth against the emotions that welled inside her.  She couldn’t afford to let herself drift into a void of pain and heartache.  The other women were counting on her to lead them and to do that she needed a clear head.  Even if the gaping hole in her chest where her heart should be was almost impossible to ignore.

 

When she found herself standing at the water’s edge she wasn’t surprised her feet had led her there.  Despite it being a lake and not the sea the expanse of water before her still calmed her.  From her spot at the shore the damage to the castle looked insubstantial, even the bridge looked whole, and she sank to the sand feeling her turbulent mind beginning to settle.  Watching the tiny waves lap at the toes of her boots she was suddenly sick and tired of her heartbreak catching her off guard.

 

“Emma, sweetheart?”

 

She closed her eyes hoping for patience as she listened to Snow approach and then sit down beside her.  While she was glad her fit of pique hadn’t upset her mother she did wish she could have had a few more moments to herself.

 

“When I was hiding from Regina I stayed as far away from the castle as possible.  I told myself it was because it wasn’t safe, that I could be killed, but deep down I knew,” Snow sighed.  Emma opened her eyes and found her mother staring off at the castle. “I knew that I couldn’t bear seeing it and knowing I couldn’t walk through the gates like I had hundreds of times before into my father’s arms where he would tell me that everything was going to be fine.

 

“I didn’t even realize I might never see it again when the Huntsman had taken me out into the woods to kill me.  I stayed away to preserve the good memories I had and you’ve stayed away to keep the bad memories from consuming you.  But, sweetheart, staying away doesn’t keep the pain away too, it makes itself known before long.”

 

“I’m so tired of feeling like this,” Emma whispered, afraid to speak any louder. “There were a lot of shitty things that happened to me, but when I was with Killian it didn’t seem to matter as much.  I was really, really happy and now?  Now I just want it to stop hurting.”

 

Snow made a noise of sympathy in the back of her throat before wrapping her arms around her.  Emma let herself fall into the comfort of her mother’s arms but her eyes remained dry.  In the short months since the curse she had cried more than she had since she was sixteen.  She wasn’t sure if she had any more tears to give.

 

“Did I ever tell you about the time I took a potion to stop feeling the way you do now, to forget my pain?” Snow asked, sitting up but keeping an arm around her.

 

“What? No!” Emma said with a touch of accusation.  She thought she knew all of her mother’s stories. “Was it because something happened to Dad?”

 

“Yes,” Snow sighed sadly. “Your grandfather had forced me to choose between breaking your father’s heart or putting a death sentence on his head.  The decision was an easy one to make.  I already had the potion, a deal I made with the Dark One and even though I had promised Grumpy I wouldn’t I took the potion in a moment of weakness anyway.  Not only did I forget the heartache but I forgot what it was to love altogether.”

 

Emma listened fascinated as Snow weaved her tale.  To hear that her mother had come a hairsbreadth away from killing Regina only to be stopped and saved by her father intercepting the arrow aimed to kill was a shock.  Snow had always stressed the importance of second chances, of not sentencing someone without just cause.  The revelation made her squirm as her own plot for revenge floated to the forefront of her mind.

 

“Don’t worry, Charming wasn’t too badly hurt,” Snow chuckled, misinterpreting Emma’s discomfort. “He only ever brought it up to tease me.  That and the scar from the rock I hit him with when we first met.

 

“It’s okay that you feel the way you feel, sweetheart,” Snow continued solemnly. “You can be mad or scared or upset but don’t let your emotions make your decisions for you.  I shouldn’t have pushed you to try and get into the castle tonight, I’m sorry.”

 

“No, don’t apologize,” Emma said with a gentle shake of her head. “I was exactly the same way when I found out Dad was being held at Regina’s palace.  It didn’t end very well for any of us.”

 

“So we’ll wait for tomorrow to find our best way in,” Snow said decisively, squeezing her shoulders in emphasis.

 

“At dawn?” Emma asked wryly.

 

“No, I think we’ve earned a little bit of a lie in don’t you?”

 

Emma laughed remembering how Snow would say the same thing at the end of a ball or after a hard day of training and even after visits from boring royals.  To hear it said again as the velvety darkness of night slowly obscured the broken castle from their view was like a balm on her aching heart.

 

“If you insist,” Emma said good naturedly.  She hooked her thumb over her shoulder, “Grace didn’t mind you taking off after me?”

 

“Of course not,” Snow said with a touch of incredulity. “She even offered to hunt so we could have time to talk.  I’m glad she came with us.”

 

“Me too,” Emma agreed.  She sighed, “She’s been through some rough storms but she hasn’t given up hope.”

 

“And neither will we,” Snow said decisively, getting to her feet. “Let’s see if we can’t find something to add to our dinner.”

 

They returned to their temporary camp to find a fire burning and Grace dividing up berries similar to the ones they had gathered themselves.  Along with the small grouse Snow had killed earlier it made for a meager meal.  One made better by the light, almost frivolous talk they engaged in until the fire had begun to burn low and their eyes closed for longer and longer stretches of time.  Emma crawled into her bedroll half expecting to listen to the sounds of the forest and her companions breaths as she laid awake through the night dreading the morning.  She was asleep before she had a chance to return her mother’s soft ‘good night’.

 

Despite Snow’s leniency she was up with the sun the next morning.  Emma was surprised she had slept through the night with her nerves about what they would find left behind in the castle, but she figured the emotional exhaustion she’d been through had finally caught up with her.  Reluctant as she was to leave her warm bed roll she felt a restlessness, an itch under her skin to do something, even if it was merely rebuilding their fire from the somehow still glowing embers and setting up their small pot filled with water to boil.

 

It wasn’t long before Grace and Snow began to stir, grunting and sighing as they woke.  Snow joined her by the rekindled fire first, yawning as she gazed blearily at the flames.  There were deep purple shadows under her eyes.  Clearly her mother hadn’t been able to sleep as easily as Emma had.

 

“Rough night?” Emma asked softly, her breath clouding in the cold morning air.

 

“Old nightmares,” Snow said, staring at the fire for a long moment before turning to give her a tired smile. “I’ll be fine.”

 

Emma was curious as to what dark dreams from her mother’s past could be haunting her again.  Were they similar to her own of losing her loved ones from a heart crushed mercilessly in a fist or were they something worse?  As much as she wanted to question Snow about it she was relieved when Grace dropped down, shivering, beside her.  Digging into her mother’s nightmares would surely lead to talking about her own and Emma wasn’t prepared to delve into her own bad dreams.

 

“Since we’re awake I guess we can start scouting out our way in.  If it turns out we do have to take a swim I’d prefer to wait until midday.  It might not make the water any warmer but at least we’ll have a chance to dry out in the sunlight,” Emma said with a shiver that wasn’t entirely for dramatics.

 

“I think we should take a look at the bridge first then,” Grace suggested. “I didn’t get a good look at it last night but the damage might not be as bad as we fear.  It will also take a good portion of time to get there and back, which will place us at the lake shore at the moment we intend to be there.”

 

“I agree,” Snow said as the haunted look in her eyes started to recede. “Though I wouldn’t mind a little breakfast before we begin.  A poached egg, rashers, roasted potatoes, and a loaf of fresh baked bread with a bit of honey should suffice.”

 

Snorting in amusement Emma dug through her pack and pulled out the block of tea she’d squirreled away from Elsa’s ship, “I hope hardtack and the berries from last night are a good enough substitute because that’s all we’ve got.”

 

“It’ll do I suppose,” Snow sighed imperiously before a genuine smile crossed her face. “It is a bit more than I had my first few weeks on the run from Regina, though.  I don’t think I had a real cup of tea for almost a year.”

 

“Six months,” Emma said as she recalled that first heavenly sip after so long without.

 

“I stopped drinking it after my father disappeared,” Grace said absentmindedly.  Then, as if she realized she’d spoken aloud, she turned a bright red, “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” Snow said quickly. “Giving up something because the memories hurt too much is understandable.  It’s not giving up completely that matters.”

 

Even though Snow was speaking to Grace Emma couldn’t help but feel like the words were directed towards her.  She grimaced and focused on chipping off enough of the tea for herself and Snow into the boiling water.  It was too early in the morning for one of her mother’s encouraging speeches, even if it was comforting to hear.

 

The bridge was in even worse shape than Emma had feared.  From a distance it had seemed as though there was a possibility of it being passable, dangerous of course, but passable.  The reality was that nothing more than one of the low guard walls spanned the large gap between the solid remnants of the stone platform.  It was crumbling before their very eyes as they looked at it with dismay and frustration.  Emma wondered if she would have been able to fix it with a snap of her fingers at one point but knew it was nothing more than a false hope.  She was more likely to demolish what remained instead.

 

Their trek down to the lake shore was fraught with quiet displeasure.  Emma knew that with their luck they wouldn’t stumble across a boat or even a piece of wood large enough to support the weight of their packs.  She was sure that Grace and her mother weren’t looking forward to the cold swim but she doubted they realized that one of them would have to remain behind.

 

“It’s not that far,” Snow said with a tilt of her head to gaze at the base of the castle.  Without turning she asked, “Is this how you got away?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma answered quietly. “All those times you made me practice gave us the advantage we needed to escape.”

 

“I had hoped you’d never need to implement it,” Snow sighed.  She gave her a tremulous smile over her shoulder, “Well, this water isn’t going to get any warmer.  Shall we?”

 

“I’ll remain behind, Captain,” Grace volunteered, surprising Emma.

 

“What?  Of course you won’t.  You’ve come this far and we expect you to remain with us until we find your children again.  There could be answers for you just as there could be answers for us in that castle,” Snow argued.

 

“You mistake me, Your Majesty,” Grace said, an embarrassed flush staining her cheeks for the second time that morning.  She squared her shoulders, “I’m not abandoning you but I’m also not a very strong swimmer.  Someone was going to have to stay with our belongings and I’m the most logical choice.  There’s nothing compelling me to immediately venture into the castle.  I can wait for a boat to be found.”

 

“I don’t know how long we’ll be,” Emma said, looking between Grace and the castle.

 

“I can build a fire and possibly catch a fish or two,” Grace said with a shrug. “In fact I might end up being better off for staying here than discovering what’s to find in there.”

 

“Are you sure?” Snow asked skeptically.

 

“Yes.  If there are clues for me to find I don’t want to risk drowning before I have a chance to discover them.”

 

“I’m surprised you volunteered to sail with me,” Emma said, her brow raised.

 

“I’ve done many surprising things on the journey to reunite with my children,” Grace said cryptically but with a small smile. “It helped that you are a capable captain.”

 

“Right,” Emma cleared her throat, caught off guard by the compliment. “Hopefully we’ll be able to get you within an hour or so.”

 

“No need to rush on my account,” Grace assured her.  She turned to Snow, “I promise I’ll be fine, Your Majesty.”

 

“I thought I told you to call me Snow,” her mother scolded gently.

 

“A habit I can’t seem to break,” Grace said with a small laugh.

 

Emma joined her as she sat in the sand and began to remove her boots.  She had a length of waterproof cloth to wrap them and her sword in but it meant leaving the rest of it behind.  Snow followed her lead but seemed hesitant to leave her bow and quiver behind.  In the end she settled for a short knife that Grace had been carrying and that Emma wrapped up in the cloth as well.

 

The water was far colder than she had anticipated, immediately numbing her toes as she and Snow waded into the lake.  When she was little they had only swum in the lake at the height of summer when the sun was merciless with its bright heat and the air was heavy with clouds that could only be felt.  To willingly enter the water that was mostly snow melt when they were on the cusp of winter felt like madness to her.  By the time she was chest deep the only thing that mattered was making it to the base of the castle without sacrificing her fingers or toes to frostbite.

 

They pulled themselves onto the rocky embankment an indeterminable amount of time later.  Snow’s lips were tinged blue but Emma could barely wonder if her own were the same as she fought against the shivers that were wracking her body.  The sunshine seemed weaker than it had on the far shore and a wind had picked up stealing what warmth it could have provided.

 

“I could have sworn the water was never this cold,” Snow said through chattering teeth.

 

“You never swam in it,” Emma huffed out as she rubbed her numb hands up and down her arms trying to create any kind of heat.

 

“Now I remember why,” Snow scowled at the water before looking at her hesitantly, “Do you… do you think you will be able to dry our clothes?”

 

Emma’s hands faltered on their path to her elbows.  She hadn’t told her mother anything about her faltering magic, embarrassed and angry that it was still out of her control.  Snow had always been observant and Emma was almost ashamed that she had forgotten that about her.

 

“I can try.”

 

Unsure if her hand was shaking from the pervasive cold or the affliction of attempting magic she hovered it at her own shoulder first.  If something were to go wrong she didn’t want Snow to suffer because of it.  Closing her eyes Emma concentrated, carefully and singularly, on drying her clothes.  She pictured a sunnier day in her mind, the wind a gentle caress, linens and clothing rippling gently on a clothes line as they warmed to dryness under the sun’s rays.  Slowly she felt herself warming up, her shirt and trousers no longer clinging to her skin in cold dampness.  When she opened her eyes she found Snow smiling widely at her and the puddle of water under her bare feet the only thing indicating she had clambered out of the lake moments before.

 

“Wonderful, sweetheart!” Snow said proudly, even as she shivered. “I’m so proud of you.”

 

Not wanting to break her concentration Emma only nodded slightly as she raised her hand to Snow and closed her eyes again.  She held the same images and feelings in her mind as she slowly moved her hand down, hovering over the length of her mother’s body.  Even when she was done, her hand hanging limply at her side, she kept her eyes closed until she felt Snow’s hand on her shoulder.

 

“I would have swam in the lake more if this was how we dried off after.”

 

Choking out a laugh as she opened her eyes she was caught off guard as Snow pulled her into a hug.  Somehow it warmed her even more than successfully using her magic had.

 

After pulling on their boots and securing their weapons at their waist Emma led the way to the secret entrance.  Unlike the one she’d used to sneak into the castle with Killian no one but Emma or her parents could find it, let alone see it.  It was why Snow had had Emma practice an escape route time and again, no one else would have been able to lead the way.  Only muscle memory and knowing where to go with her eyes closed had saved them when Zelena had swooped down on the castle.

 

She had no idea if the cloaking magic still held, it had always looked like a door to her, one that still looked solid enough.  Snow seemed to stop breathing behind her as she caught sight of the door.  Emma’s hand was steady as she reached out to open it, watching as it swung inward on somehow still well oiled hinges.  She grabbed the torch that was inside the door and carefully focused on using her magic to light it, having left her flint back with Grace.  With one final look at Snow she stepped inside and into the dungeons.

 

They moved through the chilling darkness quickly.  Emma didn’t want to dwell on the idea that her father had been kept there for any length of time or that the cells were now empty.  She ignored the large gilded mirror that was standing in the cell closest to the stairs leading up into the castle.  Snow followed close behind, close enough that Emma heard her choke back a sob upon seeing the mirror herself.

 

Even without their footsteps echoing throughout the halls or the clouds of dust being stirred up by their movements it was painfully apparent that they were alone.  She could almost taste it in the air, a stale, heavy emptiness that existed apart from the dust motes dancing along the sunbeams.  There wasn’t time for a thorough inspection of each room or even each floor so she grimly led the way to the library cataloging each broken sigh and hesitant step her mother made as they went.

 

They were both unprepared for the devastation that greeted them when they forced the library doors open.  No books remained on the shelves that were still standing and the ones littering the floor were no better than piles of ashes surrounded by scorched leather bindings.  She hadn’t paid attention to location of the soot on the outside of the castle, if she had she wouldn’t have agreed to return to the castle at all.  Anything that could have been of use to them appeared to be beyond salvageable.  The only thing left seemingly unscathed was the large cauldron sitting pristine among the detritus, mocking Emma with its wholeness.

 

“Maybe- maybe there’s something left,” Snow said tremulously. “We just need to look carefully.  Let’s go get Grace-”

 

“There is nothing left for us to find,” Emma growled whirling on Snow. “It’s all gone, burned to NOTHING!”

 

“What about the rest of the castle?  Maybe Zelena kept something about the curse in her chambers or- or maybe somewhere else, like in the Dark One’s cell.  We just can’t give up!”

 

“Say that again,” Emma said calmly.  All her thoughts had ground to a halt, “About the Dark One.  Say it again.”

 

“There might be something in his cell,” Snow repeated slowly, almost fearfully.

 

Emma didn’t wait to hear another word.  She tore back the way she and Snow had come, stirring up more dust as she sprinted down the corridors.  There were mirrors on practically every wall, most likely in every room, but there was only one she wanted to use.  One that she thought she could.

 

She skidded to a halt in front of what would have been her father’s cell.  Without thought she opened the door with a wave of her hand and placed herself in front of the mirror that stretched from floor to ceiling.  She had no idea how mirror magic worked but she didn’t care.  With another wave of her hand she focused on looking into the Dark One’s cell.

 

It was on one of the furthest edges of their kingdom.  Exactly where Emma didn’t know but far enough away that the curse might not have touched it.  She concentrated harder than she had when she had dried her and Snow’s clothes, even more precisely than when she had escaped Zelena’s curse in a cloud of white smoke.  Her eyes remained open as her reflection shimmered and disappeared to show a prison where the bars were thick spikes and the walls were roughly carved out of rock.  It looked like a fitting place to keep the most dangerous magic wielder in the realm.

 

Emma dropped to her knees, grasping the edges of the mirror to keep herself upright.  The cell was empty.  She knew she had been grasping at a false hope that he would have been there for her to question, to force answers out of, but to see only iron and stone in the glass before her was too much.

 

When Snow found her she wasn’t entirely sure if she had broken the mirror with her magic or her fists.  The only thing she was sure of was that finding Killian had become a near impossibility.


	5. Company's Coming

“I still think we should go out and scout the kingdom now that winter is passing.  There could be people out there that escaped the curse.”

 

“We barely made it through as it is and now you’re asking us to abandon our home once more in the blind hope that others are out there?  If we had even five more bodies at our disposal I might consider your proposal but we don’t.  Our best course of action is to remain here and continue looking through what’s been left behind.”

 

“And waste another three months only to discover that we’re just as poorly off as we were when we arrived?  What about Camelot or Balliolshire or any of the other kingdoms we know are still continuing on?  I know you’ve been corresponding with them somehow.  I’ve seen the letters.”

 

“Grace, we haven’t been keeping things from you and I promise we’re doing everything we can to find all of our loved ones but you know the limitations we’ve been under.  There’s only the three of us.  I’ve only begun writing to King Arthur and King Liam to try and reassert myself, and Emma, as the rulers of this kingdom.  Queen Elsa has agreed that it’s the only thing we can do at the moment.”

 

Emma let Grace and Snow’s argument wash over her as she had every other time over the long course of winter.  With no one but each other for company during the months that they’d been forced to remain in the castle during the height of winter it wasn’t a surprise that they clawed at one another more often than not.  Her and Snow had had their own fight earlier that day over her refusal to do any kind of magic aside from the messages she sent to Elsa.

 

She hadn’t brought up the fact that in the dead of night she had sent other messages out into the kingdom, even knowing there was no hope of an answer in return.

 

The letters they had received as responses to Snow’s letters Emma could barely look at.  Arthur’s were filled with sickeningly sweet compliments and hollow assurances that the kingdom of Camelot was on their side.  He continued to dither on about how glad he and his people were to be free from under the tyrannical rule that he conveniently seemed to forget he exploited to its greatest extent to keep his kingdom prosperous.  Emma wasn’t fooled and neither was Snow but they both agreed that getting Arthur on their side would keep him from actively trying to take over their kingdom.

 

She couldn’t bring herself to even pick up the letters from Liam.

 

After that first disappointing day in the castle they had decided to remain there.  Winter had been approaching fast and it was the only place where they would not only have had comfortable shelter but it was also a chance at finding anything that could help them.  Emma would have rather stayed in a cave with trolls but had kept her opinions to herself.

 

What had followed was three and a half months of drudging monotony.  She let Grace and Snow comb through the ruins of the library and what had been Zelena’s quarters, while she had occupied herself with the rest of the castle.  She hadn’t expected to find anything and had been proven right at the end of each day.  The other women’s disappointment, however, had become more and more palpable as the days of finding next to nothing turned into weeks and then months.

 

There had been only a few things they had discovered in the castle that were of any use to them.  The treasury and armory were filled to bursting, something Emma and Snow alike were disheartened to find, knowing that their people had been exploited to make them so.  They grimly accepted that they were things they would possibly need and hadn’t mentioned it thereafter.  The wardrobes and trunks had been full of clothes for them to choose from as they had only arrived with the ones on their backs.  They had thrown the gowns Zelena favored into a fire after divesting them of their embroidered jewels, only mildly mourning the loss of the gold and silver threading present in each one.  Emma had taken to wearing the trousers and tunics of the stable hands while Grace and Snow outfitted themselves in the plain dresses of the kitchen servants.

 

Despite appearances to the contrary there were a small amount of books that had survived the fire that had seemingly destroyed the library.  After Snow had salvaged what she could she and Grace had spent their time looking carefully through each and every one.  Emma had joined them once, feeling guilty for practically ignoring them in order to keep her frustrations from manifesting as snide remarks.  She had only lasted an hour flipping through an ancient and hard to read tome concerning Misthaven’s flora before slamming it shut and going back to prowling the halls of the castle and tearing through various rooms hoping to find anything to help them find those that were missing.

 

“What do you think we should do, sweetheart?”

 

“The weather’s still too unpredictable to go very far and we’re still waiting for your birds to come back from the other border kingdoms,” Emma said giving Grace a commiserating smile. “I’m sorry Grace but staying here is the best course of action for now.”

 

“And another month of reading through useless books before either of you admit that we’ve reached a dead end,” Grace snarled standing up from the table abruptly. “As soon as the snow melts I want to know what you plan to do or I’m returning to Arendelle to pick up where I left off.”

 

Emma sat in silence as Snow pleaded with Grace to wait as she stormed out of the kitchens.  Her mother turned to look at her helplessly.

 

“She’s got a point,” Emma shrugged, unswayed by Snow’s frown. “We’ve found absolutely nothing that gets us closer to any kind of answer let alone her children.”

 

“But she knows we’re looking for our family too!” Snow said, frustration bleeding into her words.

 

“I think she thought we’d somehow find them faster,” Emma said tiredly.  She slumped back in her chair and stared at the soot covered ceiling, “The stories about you and Dad are told as far away as Agrabah.  They might even be more popular there than they are here.  A lot of the details are wrong but whenever I heard them they always,  _ always _ , emphasized how because of your True Love you two would always find one another.  She was going to join me already but when we rescued you she probably believed it was guaranteed we’d get her to her kids.  Which she’s lost twice now, by the way.”

 

“That is not our fault,” Snow snapped angrily.

 

Emma dropped her head to stare disbelievingly at Snow, “I know that and Grace knows that.  We’ve been cooped up here too long with jack shit to show for it.”

 

“We’ll find something.  We  _ have _ to,” Snow said emphatically.

 

“I’m sure you will,” Emma said as she pushed back from the table.  It seemed all of their tempers were on a short fuse that morning, “I’ll be in the western wing if you need me.”

 

She ignored Snow calling after her as easily as Grace had, climbing up the servant’s stairwell two steps at a time as she had when she was younger.  Being back in the castle, even as empty and derelict as it was, had brought back long forgotten habits and it wasn’t long before she realized where her feet were carrying her.  After every fight she’d ever had with Snow, no matter how large or small it had been, she had retreated to her old nursery.  It had been converted into a study at her request when she had turned thirteen but it had somehow always retained its ability to comfort her.

 

The first time she had approached the room after returning she had dreaded what she would find.  She had been convinced that Zelena had destroyed everything in a fit of pique.  Emma had been stunned and relieved to discover it looked much like it had the day she’d been forced to flee for her life.  Her writing desk had been rifled through as well as several cupboards but they had found nothing because she had kept nothing of importance in that room.  At least nothing that a usurper would find important.  A sixteen year old princess longing to break free of her obligations would have argued otherwise.

 

For the first few weeks after Emma had first gone to the room she had cleaned it up in bits and pieces, spending only a quarter of an hour here or there to put things back to rights.  Then she had returned more and more often as they continued to find nothing.  Sometimes she wiped away the years of dust that had accumulated, other times she merely sat on the floor and let the quiet and solitude ground her.  It had easily become her favorite room in the castle once again.

 

Letting herself in she immediately crossed to her writing desk where her journal was open to the blank page she had left it on the day before.  She had been in the habit of writing down her thoughts and feelings ever since she could remember.  Half of the books in her study were old journals filled from cover to cover with adolescent musings, complaints, and dreams of what her future could bring.  The habit hadn’t left her when she’d fled, had stayed with her as a captain, and though she had gotten out of the practice once she had been forced to flee Arendelle with Pinocchio, Killian, and Thompson she had almost immediately picked it back up once she found a blank journal in her study.

 

The words had come in fits and starts at first but after a time they had flowed easily.  Emma knew it was because she wasn’t writing for herself but because she was writing for Killian, writing to him.  She was writing him letters, waiting until the day she could hand it to him and he would understand that she had never given up and that he was never far from her thoughts.

 

As she sat at the desk she left her quill in its holder for the moment.  Her argument with Snow was still agitating her and she didn’t want it to bleed into her letter for Killian.  She had written time and again about their lack of progress and her frustrations and she wanted one letter to read as though she wasn’t ready to tear her hair out, even if was the truth.

 

Emma leaned back in her chair.  Geppetto had made it for her thirteenth birthday to go with her new grown-up study.  It was an almost exact replica of her mother’s throne, the one that had been sitting on the dais in the great hall for generations, except it was much smaller and instead of precious stones embedded in the wood there were glass replicas.  She had draped it in numerous blankets and throws made by Granny and Red making it far more comfortable than the real throne.  Burrowing into the comfort provided by those not with her she finally felt herself letting go of the tension from the morning.

 

She wasn’t surprised to hear footsteps trudging down the hall towards her sanctuary a few moments later.  Snow was well aware of where she liked to disappear to after an argument and Grace had found her there more than once over the long winter months.  Emma closed her eyes to gather her patience for whoever wanted to continue the argument she’d left behind.

 

“I’m surprised to see that you’re the type of royal to idle away the hours sitting on a gilded throne, Swan.”

 

Emma’s eyes flew open.  She nearly tweaked her neck with how quickly she turned to look at the doorway.  Killian was there leaning on the lintel his dark hair tousled by the wind, blue eyes sparkling with unchecked emotion, smiling indulgently at her.

 

“Killian?” She asked in a choked whisper.

 

“I’m here, love.”

 

She slowly stood from her chair.  Killian’s smile grew at her trepidation and he stepped into the room.  Blinking quickly, unable to believe the sight before her, she walked toward him.  He met her halfway, pulling her into his arms before she had a chance to do it herself.  Burying her face in his shoulder she swallowed down the tears that threatened to fall.

 

Her thoughts were spinning wildly out of control as Killian murmured nonsense in her ear.  She couldn’t make out what he was saying over the blood rushing violently in her ears and the pounding of her heart.  All she knew, could truly comprehend, was that he had found her.  Somehow he had done what she had not been able to.

 

When she felt she could string together more than one word at a time she spoke, “How are you here?  Are you okay?  What happened?”

 

“One thing at a time,” he murmured into her hair before placing a kiss there.  He pulled back slightly to look down at her, “You are a sight for sore eyes, Swan.”

 

Killian’s eyes roamed over her face just as quickly as hers were darting over his.  They stood that way for several minutes, drinking each other in.  Emma didn’t want to do anything other than stay in his arms forever but she needed to know how he had escaped Zelena’s curse and found his way back to her.

 

“Killian, what happened?” Emma asked, repeating her earlier question.

 

His brow furrowed before he smiled at her again.  He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before letting his fingers trail down the length of her neck to rest his hand lightly on her shoulder.  His left hand.

 

“Killian?” Her voice wavered with the tears she had pushed down before.  She couldn’t help reaching up the grab onto the hand that shouldn’t have been there.  Her voice cracked, “You’re not really here.”

 

A tear rolled down her cheek.  His smile dimmed as his his eyes filled with sorrow.  With a jolt she realized they were standing on the deck of the Brooke, her sails snapping in a wind that Emma couldn’t feel.  Killian flipped his hand over and twined their fingers together, moving them to rest over his heart.  He quickly slid his hand out from under hers and used it to press her palm firmly to his chest.

 

“Everything you need is here, Emma.”

 

“What?” Her voice hitched as her tears flowed freely.

 

“Here, Emma, right here.”

 

Killian sounded as though he had spoken from a great distance.  His words swallowed by the air before she had a chance to hear them.

 

“No, no please, I don’t understand!” She sobbed, digging her fingers into his chest.

 

The Brooke was breaking apart under her feet, yards of silk and taffeta that Emma vaguely recognized as Zelena’s gowns rippled in the gusts of wind that didn’t stir a single hair on her head, and all through it Killian kept her hand gripped tightly in his own.  It was the one thing she could feel in the maelstrom around her.  The only thing that mattered.

 

“Please, please don’t leave me,” she gasped, trying desperately to hold onto whatever it was she’d found herself in. “Stay!”

 

“I’m here, Emma.  Here.”

 

Killian seemed to disappear before her eyes.  The more she tried to keep him with her the more insubstantial he became.  He slipped through her fingers like wisps of clouds, visible but intangible.  As she brought up her other hand in a last attempt to anchor him to her she suddenly jolted back into consciousness.  Emma could feel tears streaming down her cheeks as she immediately looked to the door, only to find that Killian wasn’t there and never had been.

 

“Emma?”

 

Jumping in surprise Emma turned to see Grace standing nervously at her elbow.  She hastily wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand as she sat up straighter in her chair.

 

“Yeah?” Emma rasped, as if she had been yelling herself raw in her sleep.

 

“I didn’t want to disturb you, but there’s something you need to see.”

 

Emma wanted to send Grace away so she could analyze every detail of her dream that she could already feel slipping from her memory.  When she steeled herself to do just that she realized that Grace was almost twitching with cautious excitement even as her face showed remorse for waking her.  Without giving Emma a chance to question her more closely she moved quickly from her side to the door, hastily indicating that she should follow her.  The abrupt change in Grace’s demeanor from earlier had Emma rising from her chair and trailing behind the eager Grace with an almost annoyed curiosity.

 

The last vestiges of her dream dissipated as quickly as the tears that remained on her cheeks dried as they hurried through the castle.  Only the feeling of heartache, rekindled to a blistering heat, remained.

 

Instead of leading to the library or back to the kitchens Grace strode purposefully towards the south facing side of the castle.  She stopped in front of a bank of narrow slits in the thick walls that acted as terrible windows in times of peace but were ideally placed for defensive archers in times of strife.  When Emma was younger she’d eagerly looked through the gaps, eyes skating over the bridge to the solid land across the water as she waited for one visitor or another to arrive.  As she absentmindedly repeated the action she had done a thousand times before her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of two people standing on the far shore.

 

She couldn’t discern who they were due to the distance, couldn’t even tell if they were male or female, but she instinctively knew they weren’t there to wish them any harm.  Grace was standing at her side practically twitching in nervousness.  Emma desperately wished she had her spyglass with her.  Even without a clue as to who was waiting out in the cold she easily made the decision to bring them into the castle.  Friend or foe the new faces would provide them with the distraction they sorely needed.

 

“I’m going to get them,” Emma said determinedly, already striding down the corridor to the nearest safe staircase.

 

“What?” Grace asked blankly from behind her.  Emma heard her running after her to catch up, “Do you know who they are?  Why they’re here?  What if they’re here because they heard the castle was empty and they want to take the kingdom for their own?”

 

“They’re not,” Emma threw over her shoulder, quickening her pace even as she hesitated with her words. “At least, I believe they’re not.  I sent some… letters of my own.”

 

“What do you mean?” Grace grabbed her elbow and forced her to stop.  She was looking at Emma suspiciously, “Who have you been writing to?  How have you been sending them?  I’ve seen that thing your mother does with the birds but not you.”

 

“I can’t-” Emma sighed and gently tugged her arm out of Grace’s grip, “I don’t pretend to understand it but my mother has always been able to get birds to deliver messages for her.  As for me, I had my own way.  I have magic.”

 

“Magic?”

 

Grace stepped back from her and Emma didn’t know if it was from fear or awe.

 

“It comes and it goes,” Emma seesawed her hand before clenching it into a fist at her side.  Her hand hadn’t shaken in weeks and she wasn’t about to give it the chance to start up again, “It’s how I’ve been communicating with Elsa, why those people are out there waiting.  I didn’t think that anyone was going to answer let alone show up here.”

 

“How long?”

 

Emma shook her head slowly, unsure what answer she was supposed to give.

 

“How long have you been sending messages?” Grace asked without any accusation or suspicion, merely curious.

 

“Since we decided to stay here for the winter,” Emma said with a shrug.  She was relieved Grace wasn’t angry or disappointed, “I honestly didn’t think there was anyone left to answer.”

 

“Well, if they’re truly friends then we shouldn’t make them wait out in the cold any longer.  Would you like me to get your mother while you go greet them?”

 

Nodding slowly Emma watched Grace continue down the stairs without any further questions.  It was a testament to how much they had needed something, anything, to pull them out of the rut they had found themselves in.  Grace’s frustrations with their immobilization had seemingly disappeared.  If the mere presence of the two unknown figures on the far bank had done that Emma was eager to see what tales they brought with them could achieve.

 

She hurried out to the edge of the broken bridge, still too far away to see who had come but they had seen her or at least noticed her moving about judging by the way they turned towards her.  Neither party shouted a greeting but Emma wasn’t discouraged.  Well aware of their eyes on her she went about the business of hoisting up the rope bridge they had rigged a few weeks into their stay at the castle.  The secret door was more convenient, especially once they found a rowboat, but they had all agreed that it should only be used for emergencies.  It had taken several bad ideas and multiple tries before they had a safe, functioning temporary bridge in place of the ruined one.

 

Even after she had secured the ropes and triple checked that they would hold she couldn’t seem to bring herself to watch the visitors cross the bridge.  She had sent out messages night after night, hundreds of them it had felt like, meant for every friend and ally she’d ever met in both Misthaven and beyond its borders and she almost didn’t want to know who had received them.  More precisely, who had been left behind by the curse that they were even able to receive them.

 

Listening as the other’s footsteps changed from the slide of boot sole over stone to cautious tread over planks of wood Emma focused on the knots she had made.  It had taken her longer than she’d cared to admit to learn the different types of hitches and coils that were needed on a ship.  There were times she had practiced until her hands were raw and bleeding but she had persisted until she could tie every knot perfectly with her eyes closed.  Killian had complimented her offhandedly about her proficiency once and she had scowled at him, all while secretly basking in the glow of his praise.

 

Emma frowned, remembering her dream.  Something had felt important about it, more than seeing Killian clearly for the first time in weeks.  It seemed just at the edge of her memory, like she could almost see it out of the corner of her eye but if she focused on it it slid away, retreating to the shadows of her mind.  Her determination to focus on puzzling it out broke apart once more when she realized that their visitors had successfully crossed the bridge and were standing patiently in front of her.

 

Raising her eyes to their faces she was met with the wide smiles of Will and Belle Scarlet.  She had never truly become friends with Will, a member of Robin’s Merry Men and a constant dissenter of their plans at Regina’s palace, but the sight of him and his spirited wife sparked something inside her.  A seed of hope that not everything was lost.

 

“I see she finally deems us worthy of a glance,” Will said with a smirk, eyes glittering in amusement. “Here I thought we’d get a right proper greeting considering we were invited here by royalty.”

 

“Will, what did I say about being nice?” Belle admonished before turning back to Emma with a gentle smile. “It’s good to see you again, Emma.”

 

Not trusting her voice completely Emma pulled Belle into a fierce hug and then caught Will off guard when she did the same with him.  Will was patting her back awkwardly when she had the errant thought that both he and Belle were far bulkier than she remembered.  It was with a shiver that she realized that unlike her they were appropriately dressed against the bite in the air.

 

“It’s freezing out here,” she said through chattering teeth, after stepping back from Will.  Before either of them could say a word she plowed on, “We’ve a fire going in the kitchens and some food.  We can talk once we’ve warmed up.”

 

She smiled tremulously at them before leading them into the castle without a backwards glance.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hear what they had to say but she needed to get ahold of herself before she did.

 

They ran into Snow and Grace as they crossed the entry hall heading towards the stairwell that led to the kitchens.  Snow appeared puzzled but welcoming, smiling at their guests.  Grace seemed slightly suspicious as she regarded all three of them with slightly narrowed eyes.  Emma kept the introductions quick and continued to usher them all down to the kitchens.

 

Once they were all settled at the table with steaming cups of tea and a nearly full bottle of rum in front of them Emma steeled herself to hear what news Belle and Will had brought with them, good or bad.

 

“I know it’s been a while,” Emma said with a smile that felt more like a frown, “but I want to know what’s happened since the last time I saw you.”

 

With a pang she remembered that the last time she had seen Will she’d been leaving Regina’s palace to chase after Killian.  Other than herself he was one of the last people to have seen Killian before he disappeared.  Will seemed to have realized it as well.  He was giving her a slight frown before he looked away.

 

“Me and Little John went back to Sherwood like you told us,” Will said almost apologetically. “There were plenty of blokes and a few lasses ready to fight, my Belle included.  Didn’t tell ‘em the whole mess about the witch and the hag switchin’ places.  No need to when the both of ‘em have brought about their fair share of misery.  The night before we were to head back to the palace everything went to hell.”

 

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, the knowledge of what must have happened souring her stomach.

 

“Little John disappeared,” Bell said, picking up the thread of the story.  She leaned forward and held Emma’s eyes, “I don’t mean he left the camp and didn’t come back.  He was going over maps with Much and Roland, they were trying to find a shorter route to Misthaven from Regina’s palace, when according to Roland the tent filled with a purple smoke.  When it cleared they said that Little John was gone.”

 

“Gone?”

 

“Roland?”

 

Snow and Emma had spoken at the same time.  Emma already knew what had happened.  Zelena’s curse apparently truly had been able to pull individuals from outside its purview, but to hear that Roland had remained behind was just as heartening as seeing Will and Belle again.  Belle nodded at Emma as Will continued with their tale.

 

“We didn’t know what to think, still don’t.  Much went ahead to the palace to tell Robin what had happened while Roland and I remained behind to keep the others in line.  It wasn’t a day later that Much was back, grey faced and barely able to tell us that the palace was deserted and lookin’ like it’d been raided.  No sign of Robin or anyone else me and Little John had left there.

 

“All hell broke loose then, Much was never good at keepin’ his trap shut and people were already on edge from Little John’s disappearance.  We lost half the camp over the day and nearly the rest of them that night.  Slunk off when we weren’t paying attention, the gits.”

 

“Only a few of us were left by the week’s end,” Belle said sadly. “People were scared and Robin was the one who had kept us all together.  We decided to go to the palace as planned, to try and figure out what happened and to see if anyone else would return as we had.  No one did.”

 

“Have you been there the whole time?” Emma asked quietly.  She hadn’t even considered going to Regina’s palace to see if anyone had dodged the curse as she had.

 

“Didn’t really have a choice did we?” Will scoffed, narrowing his eyes at her.  Then he jumped and tried to look contrite, Emma assumed Belle pinched him under the table, “All those bloody cowards that left knew where we had been setting up our camps.  Some only knew one or two, but a few knew them all.  The sheriff may have straw for brains but even he’s not so much of an idiot that he wouldn’t be able to find us eventually.  No one went near the palace before whatever happened happened and with the rumors spreadin’ we knew they wouldn’t go lookin’ for us there.”

 

“The palace had everything we needed,” Belle said pointedly, cutting Will off from what had been beginning to sound like an oft repeated rant. “There was plenty of food, real beds, a library.  Once the snow started to stick we knew we’d be able to breathe freely for a few months.  Then your little birds started showing up.”

 

“A whole bleedin’ flock of ‘em,” Will groused

 

“Emma?”

 

Emma felt a flush of guilt as she met her mother’s questioning gaze.  Their arguments over her using her magic had left them both frustrated time and again.  Her sending out the little glowing birds had been as much a way for her to find anyone that was left as it was rebelling against Snow’s wanting to use her magic for grander things.

 

“You sent out letters and so did I,” she said defensively, almost with childish petulance.  She dropped her eyes to the wooden table, continuing in a softer voice, “I needed to know if anyone else had escaped the curse.”

 

Her statement was met with silence.  Looking up she saw all of them looking at her with sympathy.  The very thing she didn’t want.

 

“So my messages started arriving,” Emma prompted Belle.

 

“Will, Roland, and I were the only ones they would transform into messages for,” Belle said quickly. “Most of them dissipated after a day or two of flitting around.  Those were meant for the people who had disappeared, weren’t they?”

 

Emma nodded.

 

“When we got them we had no way to respond,” Belle continued apologetically. “Even if we’d had someone to spare to get a message to you the palace was buried in snow and remained that way for weeks on end.  Finally when it started to melt we agreed to come here.”

 

“You mean you coerced us into it,” Will grumbled but he tipped a wink at Emma. “Can’t rightly go against the missus now can I?”

 

“It took a few more weeks to gather supplies,” Belle said shaking her head good naturedly at Will’s remarks. “Roland convinced us to leave first.”

 

“Wanted to make sure the rest of the lot wouldn’t scarper like the other did,” Will sneered. “Robin will be in a right strop when he hears about the cowards he’d considered friends.”

 

“He couldn’t have known this would have happened,” Belle sighed.

 

“Doesn’t matter.  The first sign of trouble and they scatter like a covey of quail hearin’ a twig snap.  Roland’s lucky the ones left are loyal to more than just the guarantee of a hot meal.”

 

“That’s not why they left and you know it.  Sometimes I wonder if you really got your heart back or if you’ve only been pretending this whole time,” Belle huffed.

 

“Can’t rightly say I’ve had my heart when I gave it to you all those years ago, love.”

 

Emma smiled wanly as Will and Belle gazed at each other lovingly.  The endearment Will had let fall so casually from his lips to his wife had felt like a dagger to her own side.  She could see Snow watching her carefully out of the corner of her eye and arranged her features into a calm mask.

 

“And Roland?  When can we expect him?”

 

“He said he’d be a day or two behind us,” Belle said with a light blush, as though embarrassed at being caught in a loving tiff with her husband. “He planned to take the same route to get here that we did.  We didn’t run into much difficulty on our way so he should be arriving within the week.”

 

“Well we’ve told you our story.  How about yours then?” Will said pointedly as he slung his arm around Belle’s shoulders and settled himself to listen.

 

Emma told her story quickly, in near monotone.  She’d had enough wallowing and didn’t want Will or Belle to pick up on her distress that she had no idea where to begin or even what to look for.  Snow and Grace jumped in with their own recollections where they could but let Emma steer the course of the tale.  When she finally reached the part where she sent off her messenger birds the mugs of tea were empty and the bottle of rum had only a swallow or two left.

 

“So that bloody witch decided to damn the rest of us just so she could get a one up on her mad sister?” Will breathed out incredulously as he slumped back in his chair.

 

“But it’s a curse, right?  That means it can be broken,” Belle hummed thoughtfully, drumming her fingers on the table.

 

“I’ve been looking through what feels like every book in the castle and have yet to find anything,” Snow said exasperation leaking into her voice. “We lost so many to the aftermath of the curse that we may never find answers.”

 

“I’ll help you look-” Belle offered with a small smile, “and I’ve brought a few books from Regina’s palace as well.”

 

“And while you lot bury yourselves in dusty tomes I’ll just be twiddlin’ me thumbs, yeah?” Will snorted.

 

“You can go hunting with Grace,” Emma said, unamused. “We’ve been barely scraping by and now that you and Belle are here with Roland on the way we’ll need to gather more food.  Should be easy pickings since there hasn’t been anyone hunting the game in the woods for months now.”

 

“Did you hear that?” Will said with mock excitement turning to Belle. “I’ve just been granted permission from the princess to hunt on royal grounds!  Robin will never believe me.”

 

“We need to find him first.  Him and everyone else,” Emma sighed.  She stood, “I’m going to go out and secure the bridge a little better.  With Roland on his way and who knows how many others that might have dodged the curse we’ll need to leave it in place.”

 

She waited only long enough to receive nods from everyone at the table.  Snow would find her soon enough and Grace as well but Emma knew that would come later.  Once the newness of Belle and Will’s appearance had worn off.  As she climbed the stairs she hoped Roland would arrive and help stave off the talk of what truly needed to be done for a little while longer.

 

Two days later Emma found herself sitting on the shore side edge of the broken bridge staring up at the castle.  She kicked her feet idly out over the dizzying heights ignoring the skittering sound of loose rock and stone the motions caused as they rained down to the water below.  While she had told everyone, her mother especially, that she was keeping watch for Roland she had spent most of her time running over every aspect of her dream with Kilian over and over again.  At least what she could remember.

 

In the days that had passed since she’d initially had it Emma had lost all the details of the dream and been left with only how she had felt.  The nights had had her hoping that the dream would repeat or even continue, that Killian would come back to her in the only way it seemed he could.  As a result she ended up sleeping for only an hour or two and the dreams she did have were nothing more than the nightmares she’d been plagued with since childhood.

 

Emma closed her eyes and tried to get herself to relax.  She listened to the gentle breeze that fanned through the leaves and branches of trees behind her, the calls of egrets and divers from the shores of the lake, the steady sound of hammering coming from somewhere in the castle.  The weak sunlight warmed her face as she leaned back on her hands and tilted her face to the sky above.  Finally she brought her feet to a stop, letting her legs dangle over the precipice.

 

Once she settled herself she brought her focus back to her dream, that feeling of confusion before it had been broken apart when she had awoken.  There was a scent of brine on the wind and the gentle creaking of the wooden bridge to her right seemed to drown out all other sounds.  Emma felt the tendrils of the dream coming back to her, teasing her senses.  She could no longer feel the grit of dirt under her hand over a steady heartbeat in her palm, one she wasn’t entirely sure was her own.

 

Suddenly a shadow fell over her and the overwhelming sensations shattered with its arrival.  Emma’s eyes shot open in annoyance and found herself staring up at the amused and upside down face of Roland as he grinned down at her.

 

“Didn’t think I’d see you again, my lady.”

 

“And I thought I told you to knock it off with the ‘my lady’ crap,” Emma grumbled irritably as she picked herself up, ignoring Roland’s outstretched hand.

 

“How about Your Highness? Princess?” Roland continued to grin as she brushed herself off. “Savior?”

 

Emma’s hand trembled slightly.  She ignored it as she rolled her eyes at him, “Emma was fine before and it’s fine now.  Run into any trouble on your way here?”

 

“Aside from not running into anyone at all?  No, not even a hint of trouble to be found,” he paused and looked her over seriously. “It is good to see you again, especially after all that’s happened.”

 

“Yeah, it is.”

 

Despite her initial annoyance at the timing of his arrival Emma couldn’t deny that seeing Roland lifted her spirits.  He was still smiling but she could see the sadness that was weighing him down.  There were frown lines around his mouth and strands of silver in his hair that hadn’t been there when they’d met less than a year before.  With a slow roll of her stomach she realized he had not only lost his father to the curse but nearly every person he considered family and friend.

 

“Come on inside, I’ll fill you in on, well, everything.  Belle’s already set up a room for you and my mother has been waiting to meet you-”

 

“Queen Snow?” Roland’s eyes widened.

 

“Uh, yeah?  But you knew that,” Emma said with a bemused grin.

 

“Yes, but I never thought I’d meet her.  The last I heard she was still being held on an island in the Bottomless Sea.”

 

“A lot has happened in the last few months-” she grimaced but continued. “I would think meeting my mother would be the least surprising of all.”

 

“You have a fair point there, my lady,” Roland said with a cheeky grin. “Lead the way then.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes but smiled as she turned to lead him to the castle.  They each shared their respective stories without much pause.  She could hear Roland’s pain as easily as he could most likely hear hers and it was with an unspoken agreement that they didn’t offer the other unneeded sympathy.  Roland’s own tale didn’t differ from the one that what she had already heard from Belle and Will.  The only additional information he was able to provide was that those he’d left behind at Regina’s palace had sworn to defend it in the name of Misthaven’s princess.

 

“I would have had them swear fealty to your mother if I’d known she had been rescued.”

 

“And I would have preferred it if you’d left my name out of it,” Emma sighed.  She had forgotten about Roland’s fervor to see her back on the throne, as well as how much she missed talking to someone near her own age, “You couldn’t have just left it at Misthaven and be done with it?”

 

“As though I’d deprive you of the only loyal subjects you have left, my lady.  That is to say if what you’ve told me about this Dark Curse is true.”

 

“Well, the curse didn’t reach Sherwood and they’re subjects of Misthaven,” Emma pointed out as she climbed the stairway towards the library.

 

“Yes, but they’re not completely loyal.  Never have been,” Roland shot right back.  He smirked when she looked back at him, “Not that it’s your or your parent’s faults.  Blame one of your great great grandparents for that.”

 

“For once I’d like to hear about a grievance that came about because of someone I’m not related to,” she rolled her eyes and continued up the stairs.

 

“There was the Great Collapse of ‘49,” Roland said as he caught up to her.

 

“The what?”

 

It had been a while since she’d had a proper history lesson but she had a feeling Roland was setting her up for something.

 

“Your Highness, I am shocked that you have no recollection of such a calamitous event.  It is rumored that to this day no pig great or small builds their home of anything but brick or stone for fear of repeating the horrors of that devastating year.”

 

“Have you always been this ridiculous?” Emma snorted, stopping just before the doors to the library.

 

“I have,” Roland smiled but it was strained. “Haven’t had the chance to behave as such these past few years though.”

 

Emma felt the smile she’d had as they’d been talking slide off her face, “Roland, I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

 

“It’s not your fault, my lady,” he said gently. “Regina’s to blame for some of it and Zelena’s to blame for the rest.  When you break this curse and restore your kingdom I’ll be putting in a formal request to be your personal jester.”

 

“Please, we have Grumpy for that,” Emma said lightly, once again ignoring the tremble in her hand.

 

“The dwarf who wouldn’t stop scowling even when Lady Red found that stash of ale for him?” Roland asked sounding affronted.  Emma was heartened to see the melancholy had left his eyes, “If he’s truly your jester than I can guarantee you’re far better off with me in the position.”

 

“Come on-” she said smiling as she tugged on his arm, “I need to introduce you to the Queen.”

 

Roland tripped a little over his feet as Emma led him through the library to where she knew Belle and Snow would be.  She tried not to laugh as he tried to straighten his coat and combed his fingers through his hair but lost the battle when he began to nervously try and tame his wild beard.

 

“Relax would you?  Compared to Will you’re much easier on the eyes and far more gentlemanly.  My mother will love you.”

 

“I’d accuse you of flirting with me to ease my nerves but I think we both know it won’t work,” Roland said with narrowed eyes.

 

“What?  Why?” Emma asked, mildly offended that he’d figured her out and that he’d shot her down even if she truly meant nothing by it.

 

“I’ve seen you with Killian and even though you didn’t say a peep about him earlier I know you’re fighting to find him as much as I am for my father,” Roland said with a shrug.  Then to her surprise he dropped his gaze to the floor, seeming suddenly shy, “There’s also the tiny insignificant detail that you are the farthest thing from being my type, seeing as you’re a woman and all.”

 

“Oh,” Emma rocked back slightly on her heels.  She had years of experience with Red meeting up with Dorothy in various ports across the realm and Roland’s revelation didn’t shock her as he seemed to think it might.  Instead she was wondering how she hadn’t realized it before, “It’s a good thing then that I have Killian and you’re not interested because my mother would have been in raptures trying to arrange our marriage.”

 

“I… what?” Roland looked up at her, shocked.

 

“Come on, we can talk about cute boys after you meet my mother.”

 

Emma tugged on his arm again and he followed her, the look of shock still on his face.  She smiled widely as she rounded the final row of bookshelves to the alcove Snow and Belle had been hiding away in for the past two days.  It disappeared almost immediately when she saw her mother looking at her with wide, guilty eyes.

 

“Mom?”

 

“I’ve just received a letter,” Snow said gently, her eyes darting to a piece of parchment in her hand. 

 

“From?” Emma asked warily.

 

“King Liam.  He said to expect him after the spring equinox,” Snow held out the letter for her to take.

 

Emma was glad that Roland was behind her.  She had always prided herself on not being the kind of woman that swooned at the slightest provocation but she found that her knees were going weak and lights were dancing in front of her eyes.  Liam would blame her, as he rightly should, but she hadn’t expected to confront him until she had found a way to bring Killian back.  Her breaths were coming in shallow bursts as the letter in her mother’s hand held her gaze captive.

 

Snow continued, “He wants to know what happened to Killian.  From you.”

 

Roland gave a shout as her legs gave out and the last thing she knew before everything went black was the smell of the sea and the pounding of her heart.


	6. Best Laid Plans

“You’re going to wear a path into the stone.”

 

“I’m going to do more than that if you don’t shut up.”

 

Roland stuck his tongue at at Emma as she passed by him once more.  She almost reciprocated but thought better of it as she ground her teeth, fearing she’d bite off her own tongue in her agitation.

 

“You don’t know if he’s truly upset with you.”

 

Emma stopped mid-stride and spun to face him, “The King of Balliolshire, the one with no heirs and enough troubles in his own kingdom, hasn’t decided to come here to have a cup of tea and discuss the weather.  The last time I saw Liam we were only civil to each other because we had to be.  It was also the last time he saw his brother.”

 

“He can’t blame you for that.  I don’t blame you for it, none of us do,” Roland stated emphatically, his warm brown eyes boring into hers.

 

“He can and he will.  Even if he’s making me wriggle on the hook by taking so long to get here,” she grumbled and resumed her pacing.

 

“You know, if I had known that all I’d needed to do was cast a curse to meet so many royals I would have done it years ago,” Roland commented lightly after a few minutes.

 

“We’d be hunting you down, not seeking your advice.”

 

“True,” he said thoughtfully, “Let’s see, Belle doesn’t count because I’ve known her for years.  I’ve met you, Princess Emma of Misthaven, Prince Killian of Balliolshire, Princess Charlotte of-”

 

“Can’t you just say the names and skip the formalities?” Emma huffed, resigned to listening to his ramblings.

 

“I could say your whole title if it’ll help pass the time,” Roland smirked.  It turned to a wide grin as she rolled her eyes at him, “Now where was I?  Right, Princess Charlotte, Prince Lucas, Princess Sophie and her twin Prince Josef-”

 

“And all of them were swept up in the curse.  I hope you weren’t trying to make me feel better,” Emma groaned.

 

“A secondary goal that’s failing apparently,” he said, shrugging apologetically. “Shall I continue?  I think I will because all that’s left is your mother Queen Snow and now King Liam.  I think meeting the Savior tops them all don’t you?”

 

“No, and I told you to stop calling me that,” Emma snapped.  She took a deep breath and cast about for a less fraught topic, “I didn’t know Belle was royalty.”

 

“She was,” Roland said slowly. “But while she was held as Regina’s prisoner her kingdom fell to ruin after her father’s death.  When Will helped her escape there was nothing left for her to return to.  My father told her she was always welcome to stay with us and she hasn’t left since.”

 

“I didn’t want to.”

 

Emma whirled around to see Belle standing in the doorway of her study.  She and Roland had been pouring over maps of the kingdom before her nerves about Liam’s arrival had gotten the better of her.  It was two months past the spring equinox and none of them had any clue as to when he’d arrive.  Equally frustrating was the continued lack of any substantial information to be found in any of the books left in their possession, despite Belle and Snow’s determination to go through them all.

 

“I had sacrificed myself to save my kingdom and had resigned myself to never sitting upon a throne.  When I discovered that my cousins had squabbled so thoroughly over what would have been mine, that there was nothing left to inherit I was almost relieved.  I have been much happier with my life as it turned out than what it might have been,” Belle said fixing on Emma with a knowing look.

 

“I didn’t mean to pry,” Emma said, wondering uncomfortably how much Snow had told Belle about her continued reluctance to become queen.

 

“Don’t worry about it Emma.  You would have learned about it eventually, Will loves to go on about how he’s swayed two queens to leave their throne for him.  Even if I was only ever a princess.”

 

“Two queens?” Emma asked unable to help her curiosity.  Especially if it would give her something to hold over Will, who still seemed to regard her with a wary eye.

 

“His first wife Anastasia was a queen in Wonderland.  She was killed by the Queen of Hearts.  It’s part of the reason he hates magic wielders so much,” Belle explained almost apologetically.

 

“Oh, I- I didn’t know,” Emma whispered, horrified that her petty need for dirt on Will unearthed something much more personal.

 

“It was a long time ago,” Belle assured her with a gentle smile.

 

“I thought he hated magic because of everything Regina and Zelena have done,” Roland said in mild accusation.  Emma looked back at him in shock and he shrugged, “Like Belle said, it was a long time ago and he’s been married to her for much longer than he had ever been with Anastasia.”

 

“We celebrated twenty three years of marriage this past fall,” Belle said modestly.  Then she frowned, “I didn’t come up here to natter on about my life.  I think we’ve found something.”

 

Emma stilled.  She was afraid that if she made a single move or even breathed that what Belle had said would prove to be another cruel dream.  In the tension filled weeks since the announcement of Liam’s intent to speak to her she had dreamed of Killian every night.  While none had stuck with her as that first one had she had come to anticipate and dread laying her head down for the night.  It was never a guarantee that the dream, when it came, would be good.

 

“Really?  What?” Roland asked eagerly.

 

He jumped up from his seat and raced past Emma.  She blinked rapidly before slowly following him to Belle’s side.

 

“Come with me to the library and I’ll explain along the way.”

 

Belle started walking without waiting for either of them to agree to her request.  Roland shot her an amused look before following.  Emma trailed behind in a daze, still trying to convince herself that she wasn’t dreaming.

 

“After Will pointed out that Zelena’s curse probably took everyone to a different realm Snow and I decided to alter what we were looking for.”

 

She smiled to herself at Belle’s diplomatic way of reminding them of the time will had called them all ‘bloody idiots’ for not even considering the missing had been transported to a different realm.  Emma had snapped back using language that made her mother blush to tell him that not everyone ran away from their problems to a completely different realm and therefore didn’t see it as an immediate option.  It was a pointed guess on her part that had struck home almost too accurately.  What had ensued was a yelling match between them that had the others scrambling from the room and ended with every candle and fireplace in the castle set ablaze and Belle sending Will on an extended hunting trip.  Alone.

 

“We didn’t know where it might have sent them so we started by searching for everything we could about realms apart from ours.  Will had told me about Oz and Wonderland and both Snow and I had read of other lands in the past.  It quickly became clear as we learned of more and more lands that we had no way of knowing which one Zelena chose.  There were dozens that we had read about and probably hundreds that we hadn’t.”

 

Roland groaned in frustration while Emma was not surprised.  Snow had told her as much after a particularly frustrating day of listing numerous realms that she and Belle had come across.  However Belle sounded far from discouraged as she ushered them through the doors leading into the library.

 

“Even if we had a way to travel to a different realm we’d have no way of knowing which one to choose.  On top of that if we happened to choose the right realm we could spend years searching and still never find the people we were looking for.  It seemed no matter what the odds were against us succeeding,” Belle said solemnly but Emma could see an excited look in her eyes.

 

“You’ve found a way for us to do all of that haven’t you?” Emma smiled widely, feeling elated that they were finally making some kind of progress.

 

“Yes,” Snow answered, beaming at them as they approached the table she was sitting at. “We might even be able to find a way to the new realm at the same time we find the object we need to guide us.”

 

“What is it?” Roland asked eagerly as he hurried over to the book laden table.

 

“This!”

 

Snow held up a large tome and flipped it around for them to see.  Amidst the words Emma wasn’t close enough to read was an intricate drawing of a compass.  There seemed to be nothing in the sketch that indicated the compass held any spectacular abilities beyond indicating direction and Emma hoped the text proved otherwise.

 

“A compass, Your Majesty?”

 

Emma snorted at Roland’s attempt to sound impressed instead of disappointed.  He shot her an annoyed look.

 

“It’s not an ordinary compass,” Snow said patiently.  She tapped on the drawing with her finger, “This particular one was enchanted to aid those traveling through a portal.  Specifically if the traveler is not quite sure of the destination.”

 

“How?” Emma asked stepping forward to get a better look at the sketch.

 

“According to this whoever is holding the compass only has to think of what they’re trying to reach.  It could be a place, a thing, or a person as long as they keep it fixed in their mind,” Snow explained as she passed Emma the book.

 

“But it only works with a portal?” Emma peered closely at the words to read the purpose of the compass for herself.  It took a moment for her to realize it was written in a foreign language and another moment before she slowly recognized it as the written version of the fairy language, something Blue had taught her to read along with her practicing her magic.  She sighed, “Magic beans are not easy to come by.”

 

“Which brings us to where the compass was last seen,” Belle said reaching around Emma to grab another book that looked more like a journal. “According to this it was amongst a hoard of treasures discovered a little over thirty years ago during the war with the giants.  Your father mentioned seeing a compass, here, in his journal and there’s every chance it’s the one we need.  Since contact with the giants has been essentially cut off since then it’s possible the compass is still there.”

 

Emma looked sharply at Snow.  It had been because of Prince James, not her father David, that the war with the giants had happened at all, that nearly all contact had ceased between the giant’s holdings high in the sky and the humans down below, and that only one lonely giant remained to guard and remember it all.

 

“We can’t.  We signed a treaty,” Emma protested, heart sore for a different reason than she had been as of late.

 

“Anton will understand why we need it.  He’ll let us use it if we promise to bring it back once we return-” Snow grasped her hand, “Sweetheart, he knows better than anyone what it’s like to lose family.”

 

“You want to ask about the beans too, don’t you,” Emma said flatly.

 

Disappointment and hope warred in her veins.  She tried to reconcile herself with the idea of going back on the promises they had given one of their most tentative allies.  Reaching out to the giant Anton, the only survivor and last of his people, was one of the first acts of diplomacy she had spearheaded.  Even at the age of thirteen she’d recognized the need to try and mend one of the many bridges that had been burned by her uncle’s blackened heart.  To approach him with the singular goal of exploiting his own heartaches to soothe hers left a foul taste in her mouth.

 

“I feel as though I’m missing something,” Roland said slowly as he looked from Snow to Emma, a scowl forming on his face. “The giants have been extinct since the war.  Your father killed the last of them for some treasure and glory before chopping down every beanstalk so no one could attempt to raid for gold as he had done.  Even raised by thieves I know when a man has no honor.”

 

“You are missing something,” Snow bit out in a voice laced with steel, “My husband did not commit those acts

 

“Forgive me Your Majesty, but everyone knows of the deeds your husband committed under the guise of heroics before he met you.  You may have brought about his change of heart but you cannot make us forget the suffering his ego caused before that happened,” Roland sneered, lifting his chin slightly and squaring his shoulders as though preparing for a fight.

 

“Knock it off Roland,” Emma snapped wearily. “That wasn’t my father, it was his twin brother James.”

 

“His twin?” Roland blinked quickly, clearly caught off guard.

 

“And there’s still one beanstalk left with one very lonely and very mistrusting giant at the top,” Emma continued, ignoring his mouth opening to most likely question her further.  She turned back to Snow, “The first time Dad and I went there Anton didn’t believe we were only there to talk.  He made it clear that he destroyed every bean he had.  If we’re looking to create a portal we’ll have to find another way.”

 

“He might know where others might be.  There was a time where humans traded with the giants for beans, it might even be how the compass ended up amongst their treasures,” Snow fired back undeterred.

 

“There have been accounts and rumors of beans scattered across the realm since the last skirmish with the giants,” Belle chimed in hesitantly. “Perhaps we don’t even have to ask your giant friend, Anton, where they could be.”

 

“But we’d still need the compass,” Emma pointed out, trying to ignore the roiling in her gut as she realized she had already begun contemplating the best way to persuade Anton to give her the compass.  There was a dry click in her throat as she swallowed, hating what her next words would be, “I’m going alone then.  If we’re going to ask this of him it has to come from me.”

 

A volley of arguments broke out around her.  She let each of their reasons for accompanying her wash over her as she strengthened her resolve.  Finally, once they began to repeat themselves, she cut in.

 

“Anton will refuse outright if I show up with strangers in tow,” she said, addressing Belle and Roland first. “Belle you need to stay here and try to see if you can find anything that will lead us to a bean and I mean anything.  Even a whisper of a rumor will do at this point.  Roland you’ll help Grace and my mother prepare for King Liam’s arrival-”

 

“Exactly why you should wait and then I can accompany you!” Snow broke in quickly. “Liam is coming here to speak to you.  It wouldn’t do for you to not be here when he arrives.”

 

“Then he should have been here when he said to expect him and not months later!” Emma snapped.  She took a deep breath to calm herself, “Look, I’ll only be gone three days at most.  The beanstalk isn’t far from here and talking to Anton will take an hour or two regardless of his decision.  Most of my time will be spent climbing up and down the beanstalk.  We know they only threat will be me falling off the thing and even if someone was with me there’d be nothing they could do for me if that happened.”

 

“But Liam?” Snow protested once more but Emma could see that she knew it was a weak argument.

 

“He won’t turn around and go back to Balliolshire just because I’m not here.  There’s questions he needs answered and I… I’m the only one that can do that.”

 

Emma ended her statement in a near whisper, blinking down at the toes of her scuffed boots.  She wasn’t running from what would happen when Liam finally arrived but it was a near thing.  Worrying about how to approach and convince Anton to give them the compass was the perfect opportunity to get out of the castle and out of her own head and her swirling thoughts.  If only for a moment.

 

“You should take something with you, a gift to assure him that you’re not there to merely take the compass with no regard for him,” Belle suggested softly. “I think I have something that will be perfect.”

 

“No, Belle, I can’t-”

 

“When are you leaving?” Belle asked with a stubborn set to her jaw.

 

“If I leave soon I’ll make it to the beanstalk before nightfall.”

 

Belle pursed her lips thoughtfully, “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in twenty minutes?”

 

Emma nodded and watched bemused as Belle walked away from them muttering to herself with the journal that belonged to James still in her hand.

 

“If you insist on doing this now I’d wish you’d take Roland or Grace with you.”

 

Her mother was giving her a small, hopeful, smile.  Albeit one tinged with a resignation that Emma could see easily in her eyes.

 

“I’m sorry but I can’t.  You need them here more than I do.  Especially if Liam and whomever he brings with him do finally arrive.”

 

Snow gave a quiet sigh, “Then give Anton my best wishes and tell him I regret being unable to be by your side when you ask him for the compass  And be careful, sweetheart, it’s been a very long time since any of us were able to visit him.  He may not be pleased to see you at first.”

 

Emma frowned as she considered that startling fact.  Before Zelena’s attack their family had visited Anton two to three times a year to not only prove to him that they wanted nothing more than to be allies but also to assuage the crushing loneliness of being the only giant left in the realm.  In the years she herself had been on the run Anton had been left more isolated than even Snow had been in her island tower.  She at least had had guards to keep her company.

 

Quickly shaking herself from the melancholic thoughts Emma said goodbye to her mother, promising to stay safe and that she would keep them informed of her progress through her glittering messenger birds.  As she turned to leave she wasn’t surprised to see a grim expression on Roland’s face.  He followed silently as she left the library and headed towards the stairwell.

 

He remained quiet all the way to her quarters and stood just slightly inside her doorway with his hands clasped behind his back as she packed.  She moved about her room in agitation as his taciturn silence and dour expression began to grate on her nerves, throwing items she thought she needed haphazardly into the pack she had emptied upon their settling into the castle so many months before.

 

Realizing she needed one more thing she gritted her teeth and stuffed a pair of trousers into her pack with a bit more force than was necessary.

 

“Close your eyes.”

 

“I beg pardon?” Roland’s hands dropped to his sides in surprise.

 

“I have to get something for the climb and I don’t want you to see where I keep it,” she huffed, waving her hands at the room at large.  Then she tilted her head, considering him, “Turn around too.”

 

“Close my eyes and turn around?” He asked indignantly.

 

“You said it yourself, you were raised by thieves,” Emma shrugged and then squared her shoulders for the fight she knew had been brewing since she’d snapped at him about his misjudgment.

 

Roland’s mouth dropped open in shock, “You don’t trust me.”

 

“I do but I can’t help letting what rumors I hear override everything I’ve learned about someone by actually getting to know them,” she said pointedly, arching her brow at him. “Now close your eyes and turn around.”

 

He did as she asked without further protest but not before she caught the look of hurt in his eyes.  Emma knew it had been a low blow but his earlier accusation had been just as low.  Her years as sailing under the guise of pirate had inured her to all kinds of suspicions and labels but she had never been able to ignore slights against her parents.  It had caused more than her fair share of bruised knuckles and even once or twice being forced from a port earlier than anticipated.

 

As soon as she was sure Roland wouldn’t sneak a peek she moved to the foot of her bed.  Geppetto, with Pinocchio’s help, had carved the beautifully intricate frame her down mattress laid upon.  There were depictions of scenes from her favorite stories, including her parents’, on the headboard, mythical creatures from land and sea wrapped themselves around the posts that held the canopy aloft, and on the footboard was a finely detailed, down to each individual feather, carving of a swan floating on calm waters.  With a final check on Roland she unerringly pressed the second feather of the wing above the waterline and smiled to herself at the sound of the secret compartment unlatching.

 

Pinocchio had made the hidden drawer for her at her request blending it seamlessly into the waterline beneath the swan.  At the time she had merely wanted somewhere to stow her childhood treasures where a nosy maid or her mother wouldn’t find them.  Many of those trinkets still remained and she sifted through them quickly before she found what she was after.  The plain, black leather cuff was scuffed and weathered, hardly looking like anything of value but it was essential for her to wear it when she climbed the beanstalk.  It had been enchanted by Blue to counteract the magic used to keep humans from making the climb.  There was another to match but Emma didn’t know where her father had hidden his.  Another reason she had to make the trip alone.

 

Emma grabbed it and quickly shut the drawer.  She crossed back to her pack and stuffed it deep under the clothing she hadn’t bothered folding to fit nicely inside.  Her trust in Roland only extended so far and if he knew what she had grabbed she didn’t doubt he would scour the castle to find one exactly like it to follow her.  Whether he wanted to protect her or discover Anton’s side of the story Emma didn’t know and didn’t have the patience to find out.

 

“You can turn back around,” she said as she cinched her pack closed.

 

He turned and quietly watched her for a moment as she fiddled with the ties before saying quietly, “If your father isn’t James then why continue with the charade all these years?  I doubt the people would object or feel betrayed by the subterfuge.  Your parents were fair and just rulers.”

 

Emma bristled slightly at both his use of the past tense and his essentially calling what her parents and even herself had done as lying to their subjects.  No matter how true his words were.  She sighed and moved back to her bed where she flopped down onto it, finding comfort in the way her body sunk into the mattress.  She knew she looked like a petulant child as she threw her arm over her eyes but the answer to Roland’s question made her feel like throwing a childish tantrum at the unfairness of it.

 

“My grandfather isn’t truly my grandfather,” she began with another sigh, clenching the fist that was at her side. “It’s a long story that I don’t want to get into but the Dark One was involved.”

 

Roland made a choking noise and Emma wondered what his history could possibly be with the imp but tucked it away to question him about later.

 

“While my mother was fighting to retake the kingdom from Regina my father was fighting to keep my mother safe from King George.  They succeeded together against Regina but the fight was far from over with Grandfather.  He couldn’t expose my father without exposing the weakness of his own kingdom for having no heir but he promised to stop at nothing to end my father’s happiness.”

 

“But your kingdoms are at peace now.  What happened to change his mind?”

 

“I did or at least that’s what I’ve been told,” she grimaced.  Removing her arm from her eyes she propped herself up on her elbows, “After my parents announced that I had been conceived Grandfather changed his tune.  He tried to form an alliance, one that benefitted him and his kingdom over my parents and Misthaven, but they refused.  It took months but they finally settled on terms that prevented either kingdom from attacking the other, as long as an heir united them.”

 

“As long as you continue to live, then?” Roland said with distaste.  He walked over to the side of the bed and hesitated, only sitting when she patted the space beside her, “But his wrath couldn’t have ended just like that.  You are a singular woman but to put a stop to such a contentious feud.”

 

“Grandfather’s kingdom was failing long before my father took James’ place and I was the saving grace-” she shot him a wry smile, “His vendetta against my parents nearly brought his kingdom to ruin and he has never had any kind of magic on his side, unlike the loyalty of Red, her grandmother, and the assistance from the fairies that my mother enjoys.  She had also proven herself as a champion of her people through her years of struggle against Regina.  If Grandfather had tried to attack my mother or father or attempted to take the kingdom by force he would have been defeated thoroughly and he knew that.  Peace with Misthaven became his only course of action.”

 

“So your father had to remain James to appease your vicious grandfather?  Seems like an unfair deal, keeping your true identity a secret and being saddled with the reputation of a man without morals.”

 

“My father didn’t seem to mind so much.  There were a few who knew and even they called him James in private.  I think he realized that he could do more with the reputation of a prince that had found his soul than a shepherd who had married into a crown.”

 

Emma sat up fully and was relieved to see that Roland was nodding in thought to himself.  She somehow knew that he wouldn’t protest her leaving quite as adamantly as he would have before her tale.

 

“I promise not to go looking for your hiding place while you’re gone,” he said pleasantly, giving her a cheeky smile. “It’s a cupboard or drawer of some kind, am I right?  Nowhere near where you had your pack, perhaps closer to this side of the room.  I’d wager it’s somewhere in this astonishing bed frame.”

 

“Thief,” she grumbled good-naturedly as she heaved herself off the bed.  Belle was most likely waiting for her down in the kitchens and she needed to get a move on if she wanted to get to the base of the beanstalk before the sun had set for the day.

 

“For a pirate I’m surprised you don’t take better care with hiding your treasure,” Roland stood beside her, his smile sliding into a teasing grin.

 

“If I really didn’t trust you I would have made you leave,” Emma said hoping he’d hear the apology in her words.

 

“I know and I’m sorry that my words made you doubt me, Highn-”

 

“Ugh, enough of that.  I need to go meet Belle.”

 

She grabbed her pack as Roland chuckled at her annoyance, following her as she headed down to the kitchens.  They were discussing exactly how much food she’d need to take before she realized that they were almost to the kitchen doors and she could hear Will speaking to someone inside.  While she wasn’t thrilled to have to speak to Will herself before she left she was glad for Belle’s sake that he had returned in one piece.

 

Emma pushed through the doors, ready to trade barbs with Will and stopped short at the sight of too many bodies before her.  She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar faces before her and Will, smirking at her as he stood from the stool he had been perched upon.  He was blocking her view of someone behind him but before she could crane her neck to see who it might be one of the men moved forward and bowed.

 

“Your Highness, it is an honor to see you again,” the man straightened and she felt a niggling in her memory of the face looking back at her. “Despite the circumstances of our visit rest assured that we offer our assistance in any way possible.”

 

“We?” 

 

Her confusion slowly melted into awareness as she took in the appearance of the half a dozen men in front of her.  They were all in uniform and while most of them appeared to be low in rank the one who had addressed her was much higher.  With a jolt she suddenly recognized him, the colors of his uniform, and recalled his surname, Turner, but worst of all remembered exactly who his superior was.  It was at that moment that Liam stood from his own seat and stared hard at her from over Will’s head.

 

“Came across them on my way back to the castle.  Thought it’d only be proper to escort them in, as it were,” Will said with a smirk, seemingly enjoying her discomfort.

 

“Bloody hell, that’s Liam?” Roland whispered behind her.

 

Turner glared at him, “His Royal Majesty,  _ King _ Liam, requests an audience with Princess Emma.”

 

“King Liam can ask for one himself,” Emma snapped, focusing her anger at the situation on Turner instead of the man whose eyes reminded her so much of Killian’s.

 

“I- but Your Highness- he shouldn’t-” Turner spluttered as he looked helplessly over in Liam’s direction.

 

“It’s alright, Turner, we both know that the princess has the manners of a pirate.  Even with her seemingly miraculous return to the throne.”

 

Emma wanted to draw her sword, even though she wasn’t wearing one, instead she carefully made sure that she gave no outward appearance that Liam’s insult had affected her, continuing to look at Turner alone.  She knew her tenuous hold on her temper would break sooner rather than later but she didn’t want it to happen in a room full of people that already held a low opinion of her.  Roland was the only one she counted as being on her side.

 

From the corner of her eye she saw the men step aside to make way for their king to approach her.  Turner gave a deep nod as he stepped back, leaving her staring into the depths of the kitchen as she continued to ignore Liam’s presence.  From behind she could sense Roland’s hesitation and then the movement in the air as he bowed deeply.  She couldn’t help the roll of her eyes at that.

 

“I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” Liam’s voice dripped with insincerity, “I would like to formally ask for an audience, in private.  If you would be ever so kind.”

 

Like, Turner and Roland he bowed beside her.  Emma knew it wasn’t out of respect.  She hadn’t held hope for civility from the man but she had thought that in the months that had passed since she had informed him of his brother’s fate his temper would have cooled.  The soldiers and Turner shifted uncomfortably as their eyes skittered away from the two of them.  She felt a gentle touch at her elbow.

 

“My lady?” Roland asked hesitantly.

 

He stepped to her side, setting himself between her and Liam.  She recognized the gesture for what it was and gave him a grateful smile.  By placing himself in that exact spot with his back to Liam he was not only declaring his loyalty to her but insulted the man and the crown he represented as well.  Still facing Turner she saw him scowl deeply at Roland, making her smile.

 

She turned to Roland, keeping her eyes firmly on him.  It was easy enough when he was both taller and broader than Liam behind him.

 

“If His Majesty requests an audience, then I’m happy to oblige,”  Emma said in a saccharine sweet voice.  Roland’s head tilted slightly at her tone, “Roland, why don’t you go and fetch my mother.  I’m sure the Queen would appreciate know our honored guest has  _ finally _ arrived.”

 

“Of course, Your Highness,” Roland replied with a smirk, catching onto her game.

 

“Could you also inform Lady Belle that her husband has returned as well?  I doubt he did so himself seeing as how he brought the King here to our humble kitchens instead of a more appropriate room.  It seems his time away did little to improve his manners,” she shot Will a smile that matched her tone.

 

He scowled back.

 

“Consider it done.  Shall I also escort His Majesty’s guard to the rooms we’ve prepared?” Roland asked seriously, lips twitching.

 

“No, Will can do that,” she turned back to Turner. “I’m sure Mister Turner will want to inspect His Majesty’s rooms.  They may not be much, sir, but they’re the best we can offer considering the state of the castle.”

 

Emma watched with joy as Turner bristled at her thinly veiled insinuation.  From the minimal time she’d spent with him back in Agrabah she knew he prided himself on his proper conduct and manners.  By the flush she could see creeping up his neck it was easy to tell he would have done exactly what she’d suggested, but only after he was out from under watchful eyes.  She could also tell he was bursting to correct how she addressed him as a commoner instead of using his proper rank title she had determined from the embroidery on the cuffs of his uniform.

 

“I’m sure they’ll be more than sufficient, Your Highness,” Turner said tersely, with a curt nod of his head.

 

“Gentlemen, Will, allow me to escort you out and leave His Majesty and Her Royal Highness to their discussion,” Roland said, smiling widely at her before gesturing for the others in the room to proceed him out the door.

 

“Now wait a bloody minute, I won’t be havin’ you tell me what to do!” Will snarled, stalking towards her.

 

Roland’s hand struck out as quick as a viper and snagged Will by the upper arm.  Will winced.

 

“You swore before me, your wife, and our men that you were loyal to the royal family of Misthaven.  Which means following the Crown Princess’ orders,” Roland said in a dangerously low voice.  Will’s nostrils flared in pain as Roland seemed to tighten his grip further, “It’s high time you prove where your true loyalties lie.”

 

Will stumbled back slightly as Roland released him.  Emma sensed that there was a history behind the confrontation.  More than just Will’s attitude towards her.  She didn’t get a chance to dwell on it, becoming distracted by Will storming from the room and Liam’s guard stumbling over themselves to catch up.

 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Emma said softly to Roland.

 

“It’s been a long time coming,” he sighed.  He looked at Turner who was whispering feverishly with Liam, “Come Mister Turner, it seems I’ll be the one to show you to the quarters we’ve prepared for His Majesty and yourself.”

 

“That’s Vice Admiral Turner to you,” Turner said disdainfully, lifting his chin to try and stare down Roland who stood half a head taller than him.

 

“Of course, Vice Admiral Turner, Sir.  If you’ll follow me.”

 

Emma laughed to herself at Roland’s mocking tone and watched as he strode from the kitchen without waiting.  Turner looked at Liam seemingly aghast at the lack of manners afforded him.  Liam chuckled, something Emma studiously ignored, and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.  As the door swung shut behind Turner Emma found herself alone with Liam for the first time since Agrabah.  Back when they had been informed of his father’s death and had discovered who each of them truly were.

 

“I’m impressed, Swan.  If I didn’t know who you really were I’d say you were fit to be queen.”

 

She realized her mistake a moment too late as her eyes locked onto the ones that looked so much like his brother’s.  Behind the brilliant blue was a fire and a rage that she’d only seen in Killian’s once and not in any way directed at her.  Fighting the instinct to step back or even look away she stared back trying not to show how affected she was by his gaze or that he’d called her by her moniker instead of her title.

 

“And who do you  _ think _ I am?”

 

“A woman who fancies herself a princess when we both know the scoundrel pirate is her true nature.  After all, only such a person would find that a bloody letter would be enough to suffice when alerting a king that the second in line for the throne had vanished without a trace.  Not to mention that with those same unfeeling words you informed a man that for the second time in the span of a year that a relation, his own brother and last remaining member of his family, was gone.  They say that Queen Elsa has a heart of ice but you,  _ Your Highness _ , have no heart at all.”

 

“You’re wrong,” Emma said, hating the shake in her voice.

 

“Am I?” Liam snorted, but there was no amusement in the sound. “When we were first ordered to go after the Brooke I admit I was intrigued.  Who had made such a powerful enemy of the Queen that she strong armed my father into sending his heirs after them?  I had heard the many rumors about the captain of course but merely chose to believe that it was a personal grudge that had escalated too far.  My mistake of course.

 

“Killian looked forward to your capture as a grand adventure, something to attribute to his name other than philanderer.  I merely saw it as a way to keep ourselves from suffering at the Queen’s hands.  It was his enthusiasm and eagerness to prove himself that became his downfall.  That and your pretty face.

 

“I shouldn’t have told him to go with you.  I knew he was already losing his head around you but I wanted to stabilize our kingdom first and in turn get the Queen on uneven footing in her own.  You were a means to an end.  I just didn’t realize it would be at the price of countless lives and cause ripples across the realm that have turned to tidal waves.”

 

“The people lost are still alive,” Emma said with conviction through gritted teeth.

 

“Perhaps, but the price of a life isn’t always death, Swan.  Although there has been plenty of that where you’re concerned.  Hewitt and Thompson would still be alive if I had listened to my good sense instead of trusting you and from what that Scarlet fellow has told me the loss of life didn’t end there either.  You are a maelstrom that destroys everything that comes near it.  I’m only glad that Killian isn’t here to see how you truly are.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“It’s clear you didn’t expect to be here when I arrived.  The surprise on your face when you entered and the pack over your shoulder are proof enough of that.  Merely running from your problems, your obligations, again,” Liam’s eyes flitted to the doorway and back. “While he never said as much in the few letters I received from him I knew Killian had fallen for you.  I wasn’t entirely sure his affections were returned and now I’m convinced they weren’t.  Tell me, Swan, did you drag that oaf of a man into your bed before or after the sheets cooled from my brother’s disappearance?”

 

Emma registered the sting in her palm before the action that caused it.  Liam’s head had rocked slightly to the side, an angry red mark rising on his cheek as the sound of her slap echoed in the vast space.  Without pause she curled her other hand into a fist and sent it careening into his jaw with more force than finesse, causing his head to snap back to the other side.  She felt a flash of pain in her knuckles that did little to quell her ire.

 

“How dare you,” she spit out, taking satisfaction in the blood welling at the corner of his mouth. “I have been doing everything I can to get everyone back and it’s not enough.  You don’t know anything about me or what I’ve had to struggle against my entire life.  You have no right to judge me when your only hardship has been watching your kingdom thrive through an alliance with Regina-”

 

“My father died-”

 

“And my parents were imprisoned for eleven years!  My kingdom was no longer mine, I was without a home, torn from my family and I did what I had to to survive.  You can’t look me in the eye and tell me that you wouldn’t have done the same,” Emma scoffed.  She shook out her hand that had begun to ache, hissing against the sharp pull across her knuckles.  Looking down she saw that a split had formed across them, blood trickling down her fingertips.  The sight caused the fight to leave her, “You were right about one thing, however.  I don’t have a heart.  How can I when Killian possesses it wholly?”

 

She wouldn’t say that she loved Killian, not in so many words.  She had promised herself that he would be the first to hear the declaration out loud.  Liam’s jaw ticked, his mouth tightening into a frown.  He grimaced, his hand moving to his mouth and looked at the blood on his fingertips with indifference.

 

“Don’t fool yourself into thinking you can garner any sympathy from me with crocodile tears or more tales of how unfair your life has been,” Liam said with disdain.

 

“I don’t want your sympathy or worse your pity,” she spit back, stalking to the small stash of liquor they kept to tend to her hand.

 

Emma wanted to hate him but found that she couldn’t.  He was hurting and had likely not had any outlet for it.  As a king he would have had to remain strong for his people and hide behind a mask of stoicism to prevent anyone from seeing weakness in their new ruler.  She wondered if even Turner had seen anything close to the strong emotions she had seen from Liam in the short time they’d been fighting.  Breathing deeply she willed herself to not hide her own emotions as she turned to him.

 

“I know you hate me and abhor the idea of working with me but I’m asking you to put that aside.  I can’t find Killian and the others on my own.  Please, for him, will you help me?”

 

Liam stared at her with a hard, flat gaze.  She stood unflinchingly under his scrutiny but couldn’t help herself from noticing the tiny details that made his face different from Killian’s and the ones that were painfully the same.  They both had blue eyes that sparkled brightly, contrasting with the darker coloring of their hair and skin, making them stand out all the more.  For the first time in months a clear image of Killian was forming in her waking mind but differences in their noses, the shapes of their jaw, the way they looked at her kept his true likeness from taking shape.  She wanted to close her eyes against the visual assault but knew Liam would perceive it as her backing down and they needed him and his resources.  Her pain could be boxed up once again.

 

“I will help you,” Liam said slowly, formally. “Not only for my brother but for the sake and stability of the realm.”

 

“Fine-” Emma nodded once, letting out the breath she had been holding.

 

Turning back to the bottles behind her she pulled out the rum.  She moved about the kitchen grabbing strips of cloth from the rag pile and two pewter mugs from a cupboard, ignoring Liam for the moment.  When she had everything she needed she sat herself down at the table, across from the seat he had occupied when she had first entered the kitchen.  Indicating he should join her by pointing with the bottle she went about pouring out a measure of rum for the both of them before holding the rags over the mouth of the bottle as she tipped it upside down.

 

“Bloody waste,” Liam harrumphed as he sat down across from her.

 

“It’ll get the job done,” Emma hissed as she dabbed at her knuckles with one of the rags.  She tossed the other to Liam, “We don’t have anything to make a poultice and I’d rather not die from infection.”

 

“If you’re implying that I’m diseased-”

 

“I wouldn’t bother with being subtle about it,” Emma said rolling her eyes.  She smirked at his frown and pushed one of the mugs towards him, “I’d just say it.”

 

She had just placed the rim of her own mug to her mouth when the kitchen doors swung open, revealing Snow.  Her mother’s eager face twisted into confusion as she took in the sight of them and Emma groaned under her breath.  She had never been very diplomatic with visiting royalty when she was younger and she had a feeling Snow was more disappointed than surprised that blood had been spilled.

 

“Queen Snow, forgive me for not finding you sooner to pay my respects,” Liam said as he stood and bowed.

 

“It seems as though other matters took precedence,” Snow frowned briefly at Emma before looking back at Liam, “My apologies, King Liam, for not being able to offer you the service or accommodations that you are used to but you are aware of our circumstances at the moment.”

 

“My men and I are honored to accept whatever you are able to provide.”

 

“If this round of formalities is going to take a while I think I’ll find Belle and be on my way,” Emma said already halfway off her stool.

 

“But Emma-”

 

“You’re leaving-”

 

“Leaving, not running,” she said pointedly, staring at Liam. “We think there’s something that can help us find where the curse took the missing people.  That’s why I had my pack.  I should be back in a few days.”

 

“Emma, now that King Liam is here I think you should wait to leave,” Snow held up her hand to stop Emma’s protest. “At least until we’ve learned what information each of us has to share.”

 

“That brings me to why my arrival was delayed,” Liam said with a grim seriousness. “Because of the sudden disappearance of the ruler of Misthaven there has been a void of power that has disrupted the peace between kingdoms in the realm.  Many, whom you mentioned you’ve written to Queen Snow, are trying to maintain stability in their own kingdoms but there are a few poised to strike.  I’ve spent most of my time in Camelot, placating King Arthur and trying to stem his ramblings about a Savior and a prophecy about his kingdom.”

 

Emma’s hand twitched and she moved to grip her mug to cover the reaction.  Luckily Liam appeared not to notice.

 

“I’ve written to Arthur, he seemed eager to help us if needed,” Snow said, sounding far from convinced at her own words.

 

“Arthur is a duplicitous snake and you should be wary of any help he offers,” Liam sneered.  He frowned, “But he’s not the one you need to concern yourself with at the moment.”

 

“What do you mean?” Snow’s eyes darted to Emma’s in worry.

 

“I have it on good authority, from my own spies and missives from other kingdoms, that King George is planning on taking control of Misthaven.  He’s been assembling troops and with no defences once he crosses into this kingdom he’ll be successful.  That is the true purpose of my visit.  I come to offer myself and my soldiers to help you win this fight.”

 

Snow looked stricken.  Emma could do nothing but laugh.  They had found a step forward only to find another thing that was pushing them back.  She caught the confused looks of her mother and Liam and it just made her laugh all the harder.  When she could manage she downed the rum in her mug and poured another healthy measure into it, sliding it towards her mother.

 

“I have a feeling we’re going to need a lot more of this before the day is done.”

 

As she rose to grab another mug for herself she tried to push down the thought that fate would have its way no matter what choices she made.  The prophecy was still months away from being fulfilled as it should.  She couldn’t help but wonder what else would happen before her twenty eighth birthday came to pass.


	7. A Dream is a Wish

Emma closed her eyes and leaned back.  The rough bark of the tree dug into her shoulders but she felt no need to adjust herself to become more comfortable.  The murmur of conversations and the heavy tread of boots over stone almost had her convinced that all was right in her kingdom.  She had found as the summer months had passed that escaping the confines of the castle to the gardens was her only respite from the madness that had enveloped them since Liam had warned them about King George’s plans.  Snow had seemed to understand her need for escape and had allowed her to spend her evenings in the garden without interruption.

 

Liam had only remained with them for two weeks, strategizing against George and sharing any information he thought might be helpful in the search for the missing people of Misthaven.  While he hadn’t continued to be openly hostile with Emma he had treated her with cold indifference.  He had only spoken to her directly during the meetings they’d had to plan and prepare for her grandfather’s attempts on the kingdom.  When he had left it had been a relief, even with his promise to return as soon as it was feasible.  Much to Emma’s displeasure Liam had instructed Turner to remain behind, along with half of the men he had initially arrived with.  She knew that Turner most likely had a second set of orders to spy on her and she tried her hardest to avoid him as much as she could.

 

Not long after Liam’s departure they began to receive a steady stream of support from other kingdoms.  Specifically the ones who had sent representatives before when they had taken over Regina’s palace.  When the first men had arrived they had been marching under the golden flag of Queen Abigail’s kingdom, Phrygia,and Emma hadn’t thought much of it.  Snow had been corresponding with her continually since their arrival back in Misthaven and Emma had sent a glittering bird of her own detailing George’s intentions.  It had made sense that Queen Abigail had sent assistance, Phrygia had been an ally of Misthaven’s for centuries but after her father and Abigail had absolved their arranged engagement to be with their True Loves the kingdoms had become even closer aligned due to the threat George posed.  What had taken Emma by surprise was the subsequent arrival of men and women from the kingdoms of Darmancourt, Langelinie, and Glowerhaven.

 

The continued show of support from King Thomas and Princess Ella, Queen Ariel and King Eric, and what she suspected was due more to Liam’s fiancee Princess Margaret than her father King Edwin had meant more to Emma than when they had sent their people to stand by her before.  They too had been swept up by the curse and the guilt of their disappearances weighed upon Emma’s shoulders along with the many others.  Each one of the kingdoms had sent along a letter, clearly unaware of the other kingdoms’ similar intentions but eerily similar in tone, that practically absolved her of any of the blame for the disappearances and officially offered their support and their armies against King George.  She had felt unworthy of their forgiveness and their willingness to help her and it had taken more than one emotional conversation with Snow to even somewhat convince her otherwise.

 

Along with the number of bodies provided by the other kingdoms Elsa had sent troops of her own and Liam had sent a contingent ahead of his return.  In all there were more than three hundred men and women ready to defend Misthaven.  As overwhelming as it was to see them rebuilding and fortifying the castle or returning from the re-established and cleaned up port village Emma knew that George’s army had double or even triple their numbers.  It was a reminder of that very fact that had driven her to the garden to try and quell the panic that had been constantly sitting beneath her breastbone.

 

Not helping matters were the constant reasons given for why she couldn’t make the journey to the beanstalk.  All she needed to hear was a single word of approval and she could be halfway there before anyone noticed her absence.  Her pack had remained inside the door of her room, ready to go at a moment’s notice.  She hadn’t even taken the time to return the cuff to its hiding place, unwilling to spare even a few seconds to go digging for it once she was given permission to leave.  Yet the days had bled into weeks and then to months and she was still frustratingly confined to the castle.

 

For all her misery Snow was the only one that seemed to take any notice.  Belle and Will had been travelling back and forth between the castle and Regina’s palace as much as to coordinate with the people there as to keep Emma and Will from eviscerating each other with their words.  Grace had been away from the castle nearly as much as Belle and Will.  She had taken it upon herself to head the rebuilding of the port village.  Emma suspected it was a distraction as well as a way to be among the first to hear the latest updates when they arrived.  She envied Grace’s ability to have distractions from her troubles, especially when seemingly everyone around her remained unaware of her own unhappiness.

 

Smiling to herself she thought about how Roland had appointed himself as her personal steward.  He had taken to following her around, trying to anticipate her needs or even more annoyingly her thoughts before she had a chance to formulate them. It had been irksome at first but she had quickly realized the cause of his behavior after she had caught him hovering around the Balliolshire contingent more than once.  Emma suspected Roland wanted to impress them proving he was just as good as them.  She only wished he had chosen someone less fastidious than Turner to prove himself to, even if she knew Roland wanted to impress him on a much more personal level.

 

“It’s good to see you smiling, especially during these uncertain times.”

 

Emma opened her eyes, squinting against the late afternoon sun.  Snow was standing over her, a small smile of her own gracing her lips.

 

“I’m not sure what to hope for more: that Grandfather finally makes a move or we discover where to find a bean to take us away from here.”

 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Snow sighed. “I know how incredibly difficult this has been but-”

 

“But the prophecy.  I know, I know,” Emma said wearily.

 

Snow appeared to have no response.  Emma felt bad for voicing her frustrations but she had remained silent through the summer.  She wasn’t surprised, therefore, when Snow sat down beside her and made herself comfortable.

 

“But,” Snow continued undeterred, “I don’t know which one I prefer either, honestly.  We can’t seem to hold onto any luck can we?”

 

“Bad luck, maybe,” Emma said with a humorless laugh.

 

“Maybe,” Snow hummed, “It does feel like the odds are stacked against us.  Then I see the people willing to defend Misthaven despite having no loyalty to us and I look at how determined you are and I know that in the end we will succeed.”

 

“I wish I had your confidence.”

 

Her mother fixed her with a determined look, “Do you doubt that you’ll find Killian?”

 

“No,” she whispered quietly, shying away from the thought of never finding him.

 

“What about your father?  Red? Pinocchio?”

 

“I’ll find them, I have to,” she said, setting her jaw.

 

“Because of a prophecy said you would?”

 

That brought Emma up short.  She had entwined her supposed destiny and the fate of those taken by Zelena’s curse so completely she had all but convinced herself that the odds she was facing were insurmountable.

 

“No, I’ll find them because they’re our family, our loved ones, our people.  They should be here, with us, free from Zelena’s curse.”

 

“See, you have just as much confidence as me,” Snow nudged her with her shoulder. “That’s why I came out here actually.”

 

“To give me a pep talk?” Emma nudged her mother back.

 

“Partially-” Snow smiled gently and took her hand, “but also to let you know that I think it’s high time that you visit Anton.”

 

“What?  Really?” Emma twisted herself to face her mother more fully.

 

“Yes.  I know you’ve been frustrated waiting-”

 

“But what about Grandfather?”

 

“Even if he finally mobilizes he has to make it through Phrygia and her defenses before reaching Misthaven.  We finally have enough men and women here that the absence of three people won’t be a drastic loss.”

 

“Three?” Emma raised her brow.

 

“I’ll only allow you to go if you take Roland and Grace with you,” Snow said with a stern look.

 

Emma had anticipated that Roland would join her.  When he wasn’t rhapsodizing over the forces gathered he had been trying to convince her to allow him to go to the beanstalk with her.  He hadn’t pressed about accompanying her to the top but she knew he wouldn’t hesitate at the opportunity.  Grace on the other hand had only showing passing interest in the beanstalk and the compass that they hoped remained amongst Anton’s treasures.  She had instead focused her time and energy trying to discern where they might procure a magic bean.  To learn that she would join her and Roland to the beanstalk was surprising.

 

“Grace?  Really?  Did she volunteer or did you order her?”

 

“She volunteered after I strongly suggested that she go,” Snow answered primly.

 

“Why though?  They can’t make the climb with me and if anything happens it only takes one person to come back here to inform you.”

 

“I could have ordered a whole flank to accompany you,” Snow said with a disapproving frown.  She paused before continuing, “Grace is starting to become restless again.  The only news coming into port concerns your grandfather and his movements or the other kingdom’s preparations to stop him.”

 

“She’s not threatening to leave us again, is she?” Emma asked, not masking her annoyance.

 

“Not quite, as of yet, but the look in her eyes matches the one I’ve seen in yours.”

 

“Look?  What look?” She blinked, confused.

 

“One of longing, impatience, of worry,” Snow squeezed her hand. “I know it well, I see it in the mirror every morning.”

 

“Mom,” Emma whispered, pained.  She couldn’t think of anything more to say because she knew it was true.  She decided to try anyway, “I’m-”

 

“Don’t say you’re sorry.  Never apologize for how you feel, sweetheart, especially when you feel as strongly as you do.  It will make you a better queen, despite the less enlightened male members of the council arguing otherwise,” Snow said flatly, a steel glint in her eye and her chin held high. “There will always be people, whether they express their opinions out loud or not, that will question your abilities to rule because you’re a woman.  I know you’ve had your fair share of doubters as a captain but it is nothing compared to what you will face as Queen.  We have to face hardships and trials unlike the ones our male counterparts do and we have to succeed far beyond their lower expectations.  That is why I’m sending you to the beanstalk, even with your grandfather’s threats hanging over our kingdom.  There is more than one battle we must win.”

 

Emma collapsed back against the tree and stared unseeing out over the garden.  She hated thinking of herself as the future queen of Misthaven, almost as much as she loathed dwelling on being the Savior.  Snow had been carefully making comments and urging her to attend meetings with the colonels of the different troops that had arrived in a less than subtle attempt to set her on the path to rule.  While she had bore them with grace she had filled more than one page of complaints about it in the letters she was still writing to Killian.  Like the prophecy, the Crown was something she couldn’t seem to escape.

 

“I should have left of my own volition.  At the very least I could have avoided the disappointed looks Turner gives me when he remembers that I’m the next in line for the throne,” Emma joked weakly, knowing it wasn’t a joke at all.

 

“Turner would do well to remember that Liam instructed him to follow my orders, whatever they may be.  Just say the word and I’ll have him mucking out the stalls, alone, until Liam returns,” Snow patted the hand that was still clasped in hers.  After a short moment she let out a shaky breath, “Thank you for not slipping away on your own, sweetheart.  It’s been enough of a trial to remember how to be a Queen again, I don’t think I could have handled your disappearance as well.”

 

Emma found herself speechless once more.  She tended to forget that it had been mere months since she had rescued her mother from her isolated island and over a decade since Snow had been a true ruler.  The sudden thrust pushing them both back into positions of power had Emma wanting to tear her hair out.  She hadn’t even considered the pressures that must have been pressing down upon Snow.

 

The truth was she had thought of absconding to the beanstalk more often than not.  Whether her plans involved sneaking out in the dead of night or brazenly striding across the bridge under the midday sun she had yearned for the wherewithal to do it.  The only thing that had stopped her was the thought of facing her mother’s disappointment when she would have returned.  She hadn’t spared a thought to the turmoil Snow would have experienced while she was gone.

 

“Will you leave tonight or wait until morning?” Snow asked in a clear effort to not sound upset.

 

“Tonight-” Emma paused, considering.  As eager as she was to be underway she knew that Grace and Roland would need a little more time to prepare, “-but tomorrow morning will give us time to be better prepared. Have you told Roland?”

 

“No and I only informed Grace that she’s to accompany you, not that you’ll be leaving straight away.  I’m sure she’ll seek you out quickly, though.”

 

Nodding Emma stood and stretched.  She grimaced as she remembered how tortuous the climb would be.  Pushing away the sobering thought of the exhaustion she would be facing at the end of the next day she offered a hand to help her mother up.  Snow accepted with a grateful smile, surprising Emma with how much her mother actually needed her help to leverage herself up.  Before Emma could dwell upon it Snow was already heading into the castle with all the regal bearing she had possessed when both of them were a decade younger.

 

True to Snow’s prediction Grace found Emma almost as soon as she stepped foot in the castle.  Grace seemed neither eager nor reluctant to leave, fixing Emma with an indifferent gaze as she listened to the plan for the morning. She agreed to be ready to leave before dawn with a nod and left Emma wondering if anyone, even the lowliest of soldiers, would have shown more enthusiasm in joining her.

 

She shook off the thought and quickly went to find Roland.  Eventually she found him sitting in a secluded alcove in the library.  There were too many soldiers lingering nearby for her to speak more plainly surrounded so she had to carefully choose her words to inform him of when and where to meet..  It was a relief that he immediately understood what she was alluding to when she pointedly mentioned her cravings for the extra large cinnamon pastries that the castle cooks used to make starting long before the sun had peeked over the horizon.  Roland smirked and winked as he teased her about making them for herself if she was so desperate.  No one around them seemed to pay them any mind as Emma scoffed at his suggestion and nodded in return before taking her leave.

 

The castle was crawling with people and she returned to her room not long after leaving the library, not wanting to be around so many strangers and also not wanting to tip anyone off that she was leaving in mere hours.  Pacing the length of her room she realized she was too keyed up to sleep and knew that the only thing that could calm her down would be to write Killian a letter.  It wouldn’t make her any more ready, or willing, to rest but it would go a long way towards settling her mind.  The ink from her greeting to him had barely had a chance to dry before someone knocked on her door.

 

“Yes?” Emma carefully pushed away the journal that held her letters to Killian before looking towards her visitor.

 

It was a surprise to see that Belle was the one standing tentatively in her doorway.  She had expected to see her mother or Roland waiting for her to invite them in.  Emma wondered for a moment if Belle had come to speak to her about Will before noticing that she had something in her hand.

 

“I wasn’t sure when you were leaving-” Belle took a small step further into the room, “May I come in?”

 

“Of course!  Did Mom tell you?” Emma asked as she stood quickly and led Belle to the small sitting area by her fireplace.

 

“No, no.  I was walking by Roland’s room and saw him packing.  I figured it meant that you were finally going to the beanstalk.”

 

“We are, Grace as well,” Emma smiled knowingly at Belle’s widened eyes. “I was surprised too.  I don’t think she’s been away from the harbor for more than a day or two.”

 

“She’s been separated from her children for a long time.  I’d be just as desperate to hear any word that there was a way to see my children again,” Belle said sympathetically, staring into the unlit hearth.

 

Emma felt a hot rush of guilt.  She had never asked if Belle and Will had children and was afraid of the answer to the question she had to ask, “Did the curse take your children too?”

 

“Oh, no,” Belle said, quickly reassuring her with an understanding look and a pat on her knee. “Our daughter lives with her husband and her little ones in one of the villages at the edge of Sherwood Forest and our son is with the others at the Evil Queen’s palace.  He’s only sixteen but eager to help.”

 

“I, uh, didn’t know,” Emma said somewhat uncomfortably.

 

“Will and I made the decision a long time ago to not mention our children to anyone who wasn’t a part of the Merry Men.  We both have people from our past who would have felt no compunction in hurting them in order to get to us,” Belle explained with a gentle smile. “That’s not to say we don’t trust you or your mother.  There were people who had been in our camp for years that didn’t know we had children.  It’s merely become a habit we’re uncomfortable with breaking, even now that one child is grown with children of her own and the other is on the cusp of manhood.”

 

“I get it,” Emma returned Belle’s smile briefly. “I’ve spent so long hiding who I truly was that I find it hard to introduce myself as Emma instead of Swan.  Even responding to my own name is a challenge, since I trained myself a long time ago to never react in any way to it being called out.  But your children have grown up in relative peace because of your caution, right?”

 

“They have,” Belle agreed.  Then she shook her head, “I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to waste your time talking about my family.”

 

“I’ve been packed for weeks,” Emma said, waving off Belle’s apology. “You’re doing me a favor, really, taking my mind off what’s to come and all that.”

 

“That’s why I’m here actually,” Belle said, fiddling with the object in her hands that Emma had noticed earlier. “This is for your giant friend.  A gift for him allowing us to borrow the compass.”

 

Belle handed it over and Emma was caught off guard by its weight and by the soft, slippery fabric it was wrapped in.  Grasping it more firmly she moved it to her lap to carefully unwrap it.  She was slightly surprised to see her face looking back up at her before she realized that it was a large hand mirror with ornate filigree along the frame and down the handle.  Turning it over she marvelled at the beauty and intricate designs of the metalwork but more so by the tingling warmth that crawled down her hands and down her arms the longer she held it.  She flipped it back over and stared hard at her reflection.

 

“It’s enchanted,” Belle’s voice said from seemingly far away.  Emma tore her eyes away from the mirror’s surface reluctantly to look at Belle, “I’ve had it for a long time but had no use for it.  It will be much better off with the giant than with me.”

 

“What does it do?” Emma asked quietly looking back at it curiously as her fingers tightened around the handle.

 

Belle seemed to hesitate before answering, causing Emma to look back at her sharply.  Her lips were twisted into a frown and she said reluctantly, “It shows whoever is holding the mirror anything they wish to see. But Emma-”

 

Emma couldn’t hear Belle over the sudden pounding of her heart.  She brought the mirror up to her face with an unsteady hand, “Killian.  Please, please show me Killian!”

 

The surface of the mirror rippled, as though a pebble had been cast into calm waters.  Emma hardly breathed as the gentle waves continued for one minute and then two.  When they cleared she found she was seemingly looking at nothing.  Not even her frantic reflection peered back at her.  She could barely make out what look liked dark, roiling clouds before she could stand to look at it any more.  Belle gently pried the mirror from her hands as she fought against the sobs of gaining and losing the chance of seeing Killian again in the span of what felt like a single beat of her heart.

 

“It was one of the first things I tried when I remembered I had this mirror,” Belle whispered sadly.  Emma tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling as Belle continued, “At first I thought it was Zelena’s spell that stopped the mirror from working properly, some kind of protection against finding them but it’s not.  I tried to see other realms: Oz, Neverland, Wonderland and each time just that swirling darkness and yet I was able to see everything I asked to see from this realm, even the giant atop his beanstalk.  The mirror’s magic only seems to work here.”

 

“Which makes it the perfect gift for Anton,” Emma said dully, sounding as though her nose was packed with cotton.

 

“Emma, I swear I would have given it to you if it had shown even a tiny glimpse of the people Zelena had taken.”

 

“I know,” Emma sighed and brought her gaze back down to Belle, “Thank you, I’m sure Anton will appreciate it.  Um, is it okay if-”

 

“Of course,” Belle said graciously and stood.  She handed the mirror back, gently placing her hand over Emma’s when she took it, “Good luck.”

 

“Thank you,” Emma said with more sincerity.  A thought occurred to her, “Belle?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Where did you get the mirror?”

 

Emma watched in fascination as something passed over Belle’s face.  Clearly the memory wasn’t a pleasant one or one that Belle seemed eager to share.

 

“Someone gave it to me.  I thought it was because he cared for me.  I was wrong.”

 

Belle gave her a brittle, fleeting smile and hurried from the room.

 

After Belle left Emma tried to gather herself enough to write any kind of letter for Killian.  Despite rewrapping the mirror she felt as though it was taunting her.  She shoved it deep into her pack to get it out of her sight but it stuck in her mind like a burr.  It was another hour before she forced herself to write a single line telling him that she was finally on her way to the beanstalk.  She didn’t exactly slam the journal shut in her frustration but it was a close thing.

 

As she readied herself for bed she tried not to be tempted by the mirror.  She nearly succeeded until she blew out the last candle.  The ethereal light of the nearly full moon proved to be too much and she found herself hastily unearthing the mirror, throwing her pack’s contents pell mell around her.  She ripped the cloth off the mirror and gasped Killian’s name into it.  The sobs she had held back earlier returned in full force when nothing but the swirling black clouds answered her plea.

 

What sleep she got that night was restless and uneasy.

 

Emma found herself in the kitchens long before she was meant to meet Grace and Roland.  When they joined her neither looked surprised to see her already up and wisely didn’t inquire about how long she had been awake.  Without a word she handed Roland the sack of food she’d gathered and led them up through the castle.  No one else was awake to see them go.  Emma breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped into the cool, predawn air without alerting a single person.

 

Their trek to the beanstalk was, for the most part, quiet.  Grace and Roland both had questions once they lost sight of the castle but after Emma’s fourth or fifth time giving monosyllabic answers they ceased asking.  She knew she was being unfair and somewhat unkind but her sleepless night was beginning to take its toll.  Her energy needed to sustain her to at least get her to the top of the beanstalk and she wasn’t about to waste it on talking.

 

They saw the beanstalk stretching into the sky long before they were close enough to see its base.  Like the first time Emma had seen it Grace gasped in awe.  Roland let out a low whistle at her side, eyes trailing upwards.  In an unspoken agreement they quickened their pace.  She knew, and suspected the others did too, that it would be hours before they would be within spitting distance but even the far off glimpse had galvanized her.

 

A little more than an hour past midday they crested the final hill that led to the valley that the beanstalk grew in.  There weren’t many people outside of those who lived in the valley that knew of the beanstalk’s existence.  When Blue had enchanted the cuffs to counteract the protective magic of the giants she had instilled another form of protection on the valley to keep the curious at bay.  Unless a person already knew of the beanstalk’s existence they would never see it looming over the valley, even if they stood in its shadow.  The increased guarantee that he wouldn’t be caught off guard by those who might have meant him harm was one of the key reasons Anton had finally agreed to the treaty Emma and her father had presented to him.

 

“Should we rest here?” Grace asked without taking her eyes off the beanstalk.

 

“No, we keep going,” Emma said, starting down the hill.

 

She could practically hear Roland’s eyes rolling but he wisely made no protest.  The sound of them following didn’t reach her until she was almost halfway down the hill.  Huffing in annoyance she kept her pace, knowing full well they were withholding their lectures until they reached the beanstalk’s base.

 

When she reached it she quickly checked over her shoulder to make sure Roland and Grace were still a ways off.  Satisfied they were she quickly slung her pack off her shoulder and knelt down to dig through it for the cuff.  Her fingers closed around it the moment Roland cleared his throat behind her.

 

“You can save your breath,” she grumbled as she slipped the cuff over her wrist before pulling her hands from the pack. “I’m climbing now and it’s impossible for either of you to come with me.”

 

“Emma, you were dead on your feet even before we left the castle.  You’re in no shape to be making that climb today.  Wait until tomorrow, eat a proper meal or two, get some sleep tonight, and then you won’t run the risk of falling off that thing halfway up!” Roland pleaded with her, waving his arm emphatically at the beanstalk towering over them.  He took a deep breath, “Please, just wait.”

 

“I’ve waited long enough,” she said quietly.

 

She knew arguing would get her nowhere but upset and resentful towards Roland.  It was true that she was exhausted, though.  It pulled at her bones and cast a fog over her thoughts but she had sailed the Brooke many times before on less sleep and was confident she could make it to top.  Even if she was fueled only by determination and stubbornness.

 

Roland seemed to deflate a little, “I know, but Killian wouldn’t want you to risk breaking your neck trying to find him.”

 

“No, he wouldn’t but if it had been him left behind he would have come here the moment he knew the compass could be at the top.”

 

Emma stopped short.  She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell much on Killian’s fate from the curse.  He had dealt a blow of some kind to Zelena, one that had cost him his hand in her ire.  No matter what other hardships the curse had done to him she knew in her heart he was fighting just as hard to get back to her.  Her only wish was that he wasn’t disregarding his own safety and well being to do it.

 

“An hour, at least,” Roland tried again. “Just to eat something substantial enough to make it to the top.”

 

Sighing she dropped down into the dirt and waved her hand imperiously at him.  Roland beamed at her, handed the sack with the food off to Grace, and began building a fire.  Grace shook her head and quietly dug out the bread Emma had packed earlier.  She tore off a chunk for herself before handing it to Emma and diving back into the sack.

 

“Why didn’t you try to convince me to rest too?” Emma asked curiously around a mouthful of the dense, nutty bread.

 

“If you hadn’t agreed so easily I might have,” Grace said offhandedly, pulling out a small battered pot. “I also know that nothing will stop you if it truly gets in your way.  Roland’s demands were hardly a formidable obstacle.”

 

Emma snickered, “Damn right.  Hey, if you’re making tea brew it strong.”

 

“And make enough for four,” Roland said quietly, with all the appearance of concentrating on building the fire.

 

Emma looked at him sharply.

 

“We’ve been followed,” he murmured but seemed unconcerned.  His eyes flicked to hers and then off behind her, “Have to admire a man for following his orders to the letter.”

 

“Shit-” she clenched her fists and her jaw.  Breathing deeply through her nose to calm herself she grit out, “Don’t tell him what we’re here for.  I don’t care how handsome you think he looks when the sun sets tonight.”

 

Roland blushed a deep fiery red and Grace tsked at her.  Emma hated to resort to such a low blow but she was tired and pissed that Turner was attached to her like a stubborn barnacle.  She took another deep breath and opened her mouth to apologize when Roland shook his head at her, fighting a sheepish grin.

 

“That obvious am I?  Let’s get this over with so you can start the climb,” he stood abruptly and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Come join us Mister Turner!  We’re just about to have a nice cup of tea!”

 

Emma snorted in laughter as she heard the far off fumbling of footsteps and snapping of twigs in what she assumed was Turner diving for cover.  Grace was hiding her own smile behind her hand, shaking her head.  Roland planted his hands on his hips with a look that Emma could tell was meant to be menacing but she could see the twitching of his lips and the mirth in his eyes.

 

“It’s good to know he hasn’t beguiled you completely,” she intoned flatly as she kicked at his foot.

 

“Trying to sneak up on a Merry Man is almost an insult.  Though not as much of one as blindly accepting his superior’s disdain as his own.  I’m beginning to wonder if my sensibilities have left me completely for continuing to admire him.”

 

Smiling sadly Emma felt a bittersweet pang remembering that exact fight she’d had with herself as she had fallen for Killian.

 

“He’s a good man,” she said quietly, “Even if he’s loyal to a fault.”

 

Roland looked at her with something akin to wonder.  She worried that he might have sensed her double meaning but his attention was once more drawn to a point behind her.  From the sound of heavy footfalls and low muttering she figured Turner no longer saw a point in dragging out the inevitability of their confrontation.

 

“In this kingdom spying on a member of the royal family is punishable by death,” Emma said casually over her shoulder once she figured Turner was close enough to hear her.

 

“Then I count myself fortunate that Queen Snow disregards the rulings made by the Evil Queen,” Turner retorted as he stepped into her line of sight with a smug smile.

 

“It was made law by my Great Great Grandfather and has been supported and enforced by every head that has worn the crown since.  After Regina and Zelena do you really think we’d be lenient on this front?”

 

“But your mother, the Queen-”

 

“Is not here and I doubt anyone knows that you are either.  Roland and Grace are not loyal only to me but to Misthaven as well and are witnesses to your crime-” she felt a grim satisfaction at watching the blood drain from Turner’s face but noted with interest how his eyes had flicked to Roland when she’d mentioned his name.  After a pause long enough to let her words fully sink in she continued, “Is that what you’ve been waiting for?  For the ruthless pirate to make an appearance?  For me to damn everyone who stands in my way?  Sorry to disappoint both you and your king but the only villains you’ll find in this endeavor is yourselves.”

 

Turner rolled his shoulders, shifting his posture so he was standing at full attention.  Emma could see that he was warring with himself as his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides and his jaw ticked in agitation.  Finally he drew in a deep breath and unerringly met her eyes.

 

“Your Highness I would like to apologize for my suspicions and how they have influenced my behavior.  I admit I let the tales and rumors regarding your time as captain of the Tarina Brooke overshadow what I have witnessed with my own eyes these past weeks.  For that I am truly sorry.”

 

Emma gave him a tight nod.  She could tell Turner’s apology was sincere but also knew that he had purposefully avoided addressing his constant shadowing of her at Liam’s behest.  It seemed that was an apology she’d have to wrangle from the ass of a royal himself.

 

They sat and stood in uncomfortable silence while they waited for the water for the tea to boil.  Emma swung back and forth between trying to keep her eyes open and restlessly fiddling with her pack, eager to begin climbing.  She continued to watch Turner, observing as he cautiously eyed the beanstalk and even more cautiously stole glances at her.  His flush at being caught only deepened when he looked fleetingly at Roland before turning away completely.

 

When Grace handed her a steaming cup she could barely restrain herself from downing it immediately.  As it was she still scalded her tongue when she greedily drank down the strong tea only minutes later.  Her eyes watered as she felt the heat of the liquid seeping down her throat towards her belly.

 

“Serves you right,” Roland tsked as she hissed air through her teeth.

 

“I’m not drinking it for the pleasantries,” she retorted around a numb tongue.  She stood quickly, “If everything goes well I should be back by tomorrow evening, the next morning at the latest.  I’ll send a bird if something keeps me longer.”

 

“If something keeps… are you planning on climbing that thing?” Turner asked spinning to face her, aghast.

 

“I wasn’t planning on staring at it,” she deadpanned.

 

“And I assume neither of your companions will be accompanying you?” He frowned.

 

“No, they’re here because my mother requested that they be here.  For her own peace of mind.”

 

“Then I shall make the climb with you.”

 

Turner stood impossibly straighter, as if to prepare himself for a barrage of arguments.  Emma almost indulged him but she had no fight left in her.  She merely rolled her eyes and secured her pack across her back.

 

“Nothing I say is going to stop you is it?”

 

“No, Your Highness,” he said stubbornly.

 

“Then be my guest,” she said, waving for him to precede her.

 

Emma managed to avoid catching Roland’s eye but saw Grace watching her carefully.  Turner paid no attention to any of them as he strode to the base of the beanstalk.  The moment his hand touched the vibrant green stem he was thrown backward.  He landed hard a fair distance away, arms and legs askew, and clearly unconscious.

 

“Turner!”

 

“Emma!”

 

She smiled sheepishly at Grace as Roland rushed to where Turner was sprawled out.  Grace narrowed her eyes at her in return, crossing her arms over her chest clearly waiting for an explanation.

 

“He’ll be fine once he wakes.  In an hour or two-” she bit back a smile as she waved her hand at the seemingly innocuous base. “It’s the protection spell the giants put on the beanstalk.  Only my father and I have a way to overcome it.”

 

“You could have just warned him off!” Roland snapped angrily, kneeling by Turner.

 

“The idiot either wouldn’t have believed me or ignored what I’d said and still tried to climb the thing.  At least this way I’m here to tell you the only lasting injury he’ll have will be the one to his pride.  He deserves worse but I’m feeling generous and he was holding me up.”

 

“Worse?!” Roland yelled at her, unbelievingly.

 

“Yes, worse,” she growled, storming up to him. “I wasn’t lying about what we do to spies.  It may have been Liam’s orders but he continually acted on them, obviously listening to us talking about the beanstalk or he wouldn’t have been able to see it.  My mother was lenient before she lost her crown again, always believed in giving second chances, and I did too but things have changed.  When he wakes tell him he’s on his last one.”

 

Without waiting for a response from either Roland or Grace Emma strode over to the beanstalk.  Unlike with Turner when she placed her hand on a vine to pull herself up nothing happened.  She didn’t even feel a slight tingle of magic.  Grimacing at the roughness of the plant and the pull at her shoulders she began her ascent.  She could feel their eyes on her, an itch between her shoulderblades, but she stubbornly refused to look back at them.  Focusing instead on finding suitable handholds she climbed.

 

Three hours later Emma stopped to rest for the fourth time in less than an hour.  Leaning her forehead to rest in the crook of her elbow she stared blankly down the length of the beanstalk, the ground no longer in sight.  Her arms and legs were shaking, her vision had begun to double, and she had no idea how close or how far she was from the top.  She grumbled out curses that she hadn’t listened to Roland and taken the time to rest properly.

 

“Two fucking hours wouldn’t have killed me.”

 

“They say the first sign of madness is talking to oneself, Swan.”

 

Emma barely flinched.  She adjusted her head to press her chin to her shoulder to stare blankly at the grinning Killian latched onto the beanstalk next to her.  Tightening her grip she could still feel the rough bite of the vines under her hands and reasoned that while she hadn’t plunged to her death she had certainly fallen into a waking dream, or perhaps a nightmare.  Gritting her teeth she began to climb again.

 

“Bad form to ignore a man, lass.”

 

“Can’t ignore a man when he isn’t really there,” she muttered under her breath.

 

“You wound me-” Killian clutched at his chest, pulling her attention unwillingly to him.

 

At the end of his left arm a bright, metal hook, one she recognized vaguely from the ones used on the deck of the Brooke, winked in the sunlight from where it was half buried in the beanstalk.  She blinked and his hand returned, gripping a vine as the tendons across the back of it stood out in sharp relief.  Her eyes skittered away to her own hands instead, unwilling to see his hand shift back to the hook.

 

“I may not be here in body, love, but I am  _ always _ with you,” he said softly.

 

She gave a hiccupping laugh, “I’d prefer you to be here in body.”

 

“You know I would too,” he said sadly, climbing steadily beside her.

 

Without an answer to give that wouldn’t involve tears Emma remained silent and continued to climb.  Killian made none of the sounds she did as they ascended.  If it wasn’t for the movement she could see out of the corner of her eye or the calming presence at her side she could have believed that he had disappeared.  The thought that he could do so easily made her breath catch in her throat.

 

“Bad form knocking Turner out like that.”

 

“He deserved it,” she huffed.

 

“In that I agree but Roland also had a point, love.  You could have warned him of the consequences first,” Killian rebuked mildly.

 

“He wouldn’t have listened.  You told me once how stubborn he is and I’ve seen enough of it myself-” Emma continued to climb for a few minutes before grumbling, “Fine, I should have said something.”

 

“Quite, but at the very least it will ensure he thinks twice before underestimating you, love,” Killian hummed proudly.

 

“And make Liam hate me more than he already does,” she sighed.

 

“You know he doesn’t hate you, Swan.”

 

“Why, because  _ you’re _ telling me?”

 

Emma winced, afraid he’d disappear immediately.  Instead he turned his head towards her, smiling.

 

“Exactly.  You are well aware that I’m only telling you the truths you already know-” Killian winked as his smile softened. “Just as you know that I miss you terribly, love.”

 

“How can I know that?  You’re not even really here,” her voice warbled and she swallowed thickly around the lump in her throat.

 

“Aye, but I assure you that whether or not I’m truly here you know that I love you.  No curse or witch, time or distance will change that.  Do you know how I know?”

 

“How?”

 

“Because you feel exactly the same way, love.  Even if you haven’t said it yet.”

 

“I’ve dreamed you up and you still have to prove that you’re right,” she said, laughing weakly.

 

“I beg to differ, Swan, it seems that you’re the one proving yourself right.  Not that I mind of course.”

 

Emma had a retort ready on her tongue but instead she said, “I do, you know, feel the same.”

 

He gave her a bittersweet smile but made no comment about her half confession.  Their climb was mostly silent after that, with only her somewhat labored breathing and Killian’s quiet encouragements breaking it.  As they wended their way up she no longer felt qualms about looking at him.  She felt as though she needed to soak in the sight of him by her side to keep her sanity for what might come.  No matter how contradictory she knew that line of thinking was.

 

“Almost there now, love.”

 

Killian’s voice caused her to shift her focus from his profile to the beanstalk above.  She could see the flat grey underside of what she knew was the base of the giant’s kingdom in the sky.  It was much closer than she had realized and in her shock her hand slipped.  The sharp pain in her hand caused Killian’s image to shudder.

 

“No!” Emma gasped.

 

“Your hand-”

 

“I don’t care about my hand!  You can’t leave me now!” She babbled, panicked.

 

“Swan, you knew this couldn’t last,” Killian murmured gently.  His body faded into transparency before snapping back into sharp relief, his left hand a hook once more, “Don’t, Emma, don’t try and keep me here.”

 

Emma blinked quickly, realizing that she had been doing just that.  As much as she knew that keeping him with her, talking to the image of him and holding on it was a path to madness.

 

“I will find you,” she said resolutely.  Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring his edges once again, “I promise.”

 

“Of course you will, love.  I’ve yet to see you fail.”

 

She wanted to stare at him, to hold his hand or even the hook, she wanted to wrap her arms around him and anchor him to her forever.  Instead she closed her eyes, felt her chin wobble, let the tears course down her face, as she breathed out slowly.  When she opened her eyes once more he was gone.

 

Her tears were her only companion as she continued her climb.  The pain in her hand had dulled to a low throb but in her attempt to treat it gingerly her pace slowed considerably.  Just as she was about to look up to check her progress a shadow moved above her and she was plucked off the beanstalk like a bug off a flower.

 

“Princess Emma?”

 

Despite only being able to see the full moon of face right in front of her and nothing else of the giant holding her aloft it was easy to see that Anton looked exactly the same as the last time she had seen him, with wild curly brown hair and a beard of the same color.  The suspicion in his honey colored eyes wasn’t a surprise, she was certain that even if her visits hadn’t stopped that would have never changed, but the tightness around his mouth was new.  Emma realized with a pang that he wanted to let himself be happy that she was there but couldn’t allow himself to get his hopes up that he was no longer alone again.

 

“Hello, Anton.  Long time no see.”

 

Anton’s face split into a wide smile, causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle.  Her mother’s warnings about him not being happy to see her were for nothing as he practically vibrated in joy.  Unfortunately he seemed to have forgotten that she was dangling from between his fingers.  Emma tried to fight off the vertigo of swaying thirty feet in the air but unlike the times she’d done so in the crow’s nest of the Brooke she had nothing to hold onto to keep herself somewhat steady.

 

“Anton!” She gasped, swallowing down the bile creeping up her throat. “I can’t- Anton you need to-”

 

“Oh, Princess Emma, I’m sorry!”

 

He immediately sat her down on the flat, fleshy palm of his other hand.  Her dizziness continued to linger but she no longer felt like she was in danger of losing what might have been left in her stomach.  Anton was holding her at his eye level and she smiled weakly at his look of concern.

 

“I’ll be alright in a moment,” she said with only a slight warble to her voice, patting his palm in reassurance.

 

“You’ve been away a long time, Princess.  I thought you and your father had forgotten about me,” Anton said without accusation but she could still hear a sad resignation coloring his words.

 

“It’s a long, long story and I’m more than willing to tell it but I did just climb that beanstalk-”

 

“Right, of course!” Anton smiled widely again.  He turned and began walking into his estate, “I’ve begun harvesting the corn and tomatoes and I have a cider I made from last year’s apple crop.  Your little hut might be a bit dusty but it’s still there.  I guess I knew deep down that you’d be back.”

 

Emma gave him an apologetic smile.  She thought longingly of the hut, specifically the bed filled with goose down that was almost softer than her bed at the castle.  She was already half asleep from the gentle rocking of Anton’s palm as he walked and knew if she even looked at the hut she would end up sleeping for a week.

 

“The food, drink and catching up first.  I owe you an explanation before I can sleep.”

 

Anton shrugged in agreement and changed the direction he was walking.  Emma pressed her hands down to keep her balance as he turned and gasped as pain flared in her cut hand.

 

“Princess?”

 

“I’m fine, Anton,” she said waving away his concern. “A little cut is all.”

 

She looked down at her hand, finally able to take the time to access how badly she had been cut.  From what she could tell the wound had reopened and was bleeding slowly once more.  She grimaced at the smears of dried and fresh blood across her palm.  With a sigh of resignation she maneuvered her pack into her lap and began digging through it.  Due to her desperate search for the mirror the night before she worried that a few essential items had been left behind on her bedroom floor.  Mainly her flask filled with rum.  It didn’t help that she had essentially gathered the far flung objects haphazardly into her arms and stuffed them back in her pack, only checking to make sure that the mirror and her cuff had made it in.  Finally with a small cry of triumph that had Anton looking at her quizzically she felt the flask and tried to pull it out.

 

“Everything okay, Princess?” Anton asked as he stopped and brought her up to his eyeline.

 

“Yeah, just trying to… ah!”

 

Emma wrenched the flask out and saw why it had put up a fight.  A length of black cloth had somehow wrapped itself around it and she pulled at it until it fluttered free of the pack.  As she untangled her flask she saw that it was a finely made scarf, one she didn’t remember owning.  Furrowing her brow she ran her hands over the soft material, trying to recall if she had bought it or merely liberated it on the seas from one wealthy merchant or another.  Then her fingers drifted over a bit of embroidery and her stomach clenched as she read the monogramed letters: KCBH.

 

She had never known Killian’s full name but there was no doubt in her mind that the scarf was his.  Letting out a shaky breath she bunched the scarf up in her hands and pressed it to her nose.  Inhaling deeply she swore she could pick up the faintest trace of his achingly familiar scent.  It was barely there, Emma was certain no one else would have detected it, but it was enough to comfort her all the same.  She looked up at Anton, ready to tell her tale.

 

“Regina, or who we thought was Regina, attacked not long after I turned sixteen…”

 

Emma began the story of her long absence as she tended to her hand and Anton resumed making his way through his estate and to his kitchens.  She told him the story as matter of factly as she could, only faltering when she poured rum over her wound and then stopping completely to tighten with her teeth the knot she’d made in the scarf that she’d used as an impromptu bandage.  After that her voice didn’t break once, even when she relived to a rapt but horror stricken Anton the agony of running from the curse and having to leave Killian behind.

 

“So you were just like me, left alone,” Anton sighed sadly, rolling a grape the size of a wagon wheel between his fingers.

 

“No,” Emma contradicted quickly, wincing at her bluntness but unable to lie. “I had friends in other kingdoms, I found my mother, so I was never really alone.  Not like you.  I’m so sorry that you thought we’d abandoned you, Anton.”

 

“I was angry at first, I admit,” Anton said with a slight frown.  He placed the grape in front of where Emma was seated on an old wine cork atop a cake stand, “I thought you and your father were liars just like his twin.  It was much later that my anger gave way to some specks of rational thought.

 

“Your father had told me about the Evil Queen and even some others that posed threats to your kingdom.  In my isolation I had forgotten that even though I was your friend I was neither a priority nor a concern if something terrible had happened so far below.  I have been lonely but I haven’t been resentful.  Tending to my crops and experimenting with the seeds your father had brought me once has kept me plenty occupied all these years.”

 

Emma’s heart seemed to stop at Anton’s mention of his crops.  Logically she knew that no magic beans remained, he had told her the story of how he had razed the entire field of them during the Giant Wars.  She couldn’t help the wellspring of hope that bubbled to the surface that he might have somehow been able to restore what he had once destroyed.  Then her senses returned and with it the responsibility of asking for the object she actually had a chance of finding.

 

“Anton, I-” she hesitated, not wanting to disrupt his joy at her being there.  Looking up towards his face she was surprised to find him smiling knowingly down at her. “You know I came here for something.”

 

“Yes, I wasn’t sure when I first pulled you off the beanstalk but even before you told me what kept you away I knew you were here with a purpose.  The look on your face when you found that cloth in your bag said it all,” Anton’s smile dipped into a frown. “I don’t have any beans, if that’s what you’ve come here for.”

 

“It was a long shot anyway,” she said, hoping her disappointment wasn’t bleeding through. “But that’s actually not what I came up here for.”

 

“Really?  What did you come here for?” He asked, not unkindly.

 

“First I need to give you something-” Emma hurriedly grabbed her pack for the mirror.  She had an easier time pulling it out than her flask but she hesitated before unwrapping it from its cover, “This isn’t a bribe or an way to take what you might have to give.  We,  _ I _ , want you to have it.  I hope it can help keep some of the loneliness at bay.”

 

She carefully pulled the cloth off and held the mirror up for Anton to take.  He delicately pinched it between his fingers but it nearly disappeared between his thumb and forefinger.  With careful movements he placed it in his other palm and looked down on it.

 

“It’s been enchanted,” she called up to him. “It’ll show you anything you want to see in the realm.  You just- you just have to ask.”

 

“This is wonderful, Princess, a bit small but wonderful!” Anton said as he lowered his hand.  He studied her closely, “I would have given you anything you asked for even without this marvelous gift.  So, what are you looking for?”

 

“A compass, it’s enchanted like the mirror to help with travelling between realms.  My uncle saw it here, when he… was here.  I know it’s been a long time and I know that it might not even be here but I had to try.  It’s my only chance to find what Zelena took from me.”

 

Emma knew she was on the verge of a breakdown.  She was exhausted, mentally and physically, and felt as though everything was closing in on her.  It took all her strength to keep her head up and prepare herself for what Anton had to say.

 

“I have it, I’m not sure where but I do have it, Princess,” Anton said as Emma nearly collapsed in relief.  She almost missed what he said next, “How will you use it?  I have no beans.”

 

“My mother and others are back at our castle looking for anything that can lead us to one,” she said breathlessly, shaking with joy.

 

“Why not use the mirror?”

 

“What?” Emma stilled in shock.

 

“The mirror can show you anything you want to see in right?  Why not ask it to show you where to find a bean?” Anton asked sounding confused.

 

“I… we… no one thought of that,” she whispered, shaking her head at the obviousness of it.

 

“Go ahead-” Anton placed his palm with the mirror next to her, “Ask.”

 

Emma picked up the mirror with an unsteady hand and a pounding heart, “Please, show me where to find a bean.”

 

The surface of the mirror rippled like it had previously but before despair could set in it cleared and Emma nearly dropped the mirror at what she saw.  There reflected back at her, clear as day and unmistakable, were the achingly familiar lines of the Tarina Brooke.


	8. Hello, Goodbye

“Excuse me Your Majesties, Your Highness, a messenger from Phrygia has arrived.  Shall I show him in?”

 

“Of course, Johnson.”

 

Emma scowled at Snow’s pleasant demeanor.  They were a week away from her twenty-eighth birthday and her own patience was wearing thin.  A messenger from Phrygia meant that any news from their mouth would be focused on the movements of King George and not the location of her ship.  She made no effort to rearrange her features when the young man bearing Phrygia’s coat of arms stepped into the room.

 

“Your Majesties-” the messenger bowed at Snow and to Liam who sat at her right.  Then he bowed to Emma who was on her mother’s left, “Your Highness.  I bring urgent news from Phrygia and Queen Abigail.”

 

“Obviously,” Emma scoffed under her breath, causing Snow to scowl at her.

 

“King George’s troops are on the move-” he continued, seemingly oblivious to her comment, “though for now they seem to be merely skirting our borders.  Queen Abigail has made it clear that if they cross into Phrygia it is as good as a declaration of war.”

 

“We’ve received similar reports from other kingdoms,” Snow said, with a hint of dismissal in her voice. “Thank you…”

 

“Philips, Your Majesty,” he said with a small nod of his head. “That is not the only distressing news I have.  We’ve reason to believe that the recently deposed king of the Southern Isles and some of his brothers have pledged their allegiance and have thusly offered their support to King George.  The subjects of the Southern Isles that maintained loyalty to the former king along with the armies of the kingdoms the brothers have married into have swelled the numbers of men fighting on King George’s side.  Queen Abigail has bid me to remain in Misthaven for as long as necessary until a response is ready.”

 

“Of course,” Snow said gravely, clearly troubled by the news. “We won’t have an immediate answer for you to return with but Johnson will show you to a room in the meantime.”

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Philips said bowing one final time.

 

As soon as the door closed behind Philips and Johnson Emma pushed back from the table and began pacing the length of the room.  Her grandfather and his army had only been an irritating threat, one Emma knew Snow had been hoping could be dealt with without going to war.  Emma, however, had been under no such illusion and for once Liam had agreed with her.  Begrudgingly they had worked together to create plans for any and all scenarios they thought King George might employ.  They had not anticipated that he would find support outside his own kingdom, however.

 

While she had been occupied with that there was the ongoing search for the Tarina Brooke, led by Roland and Grace and aided by the kingdoms they were in contact with.  There had been no sighting of the ship in any ports or on the open water.  What hadn’t helped matters was that she hadn’t been the last one to sail her.

 

The last time Emma had seen the Brooke had been back in Arendelle and the last she’d heard about her Red had assured her that the Sherwood inlet she’d anchored the Brooke in was out of the way, with no signs of any other ships around.  Emma didn’t even know where that inlet was.  She did know that without the cloak she usually put on the ship to conceal her there was an open invitation for someone to pillage her or to take her as their own.  That thought alone set Emma’s teeth on edge and the idea that the person could find and use the bean that was somewhere on the ship incensed her.

 

“This changes nothing.”

 

“This changes everything!”

 

Snow and Liam’s raised voices caused Emma’s steps to falter.  Snow was frowning up at Liam who was standing with his hands braced on the table, glaring down at her.  He looked up and when he caught Emma’s eye he dropped back into his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face.

 

Liam had returned to Misthaven only a few days after Emma and the others had returned from their journey to the beanstalk.  He had so far treated her with polite tolerance, only a bit better than the cold indifference from before, and she suspected that Turner hadn’t held back in reporting everything that had happened during his absence.  She was glad Liam was no longer hostile but also knew that they both had some words that needed to be said before a true peace could exist between them.

 

“Do you think Regina or Zelena would have taken over your kingdom so easily by themselves?” Liam directed his question at her.

 

Emma furrowed her brow before slowly shaking her head, unsure of the point he was trying to make, “Regina didn’t need help the first time.  She just accused my mother of murder and assumed the throne under the guise of protecting the kingdom.”

 

“She used her black knights to enforce her  _ protection _ , yeah?  The people of Misthaven were loyal to Snow, the rightful heir, even with the lies Regina told.  So where did those men in the cowls come from and why did they follow her orders without question?”

 

“Fear,” Emma scoffed, looking at Snow to share a commiserating look and was surprised to find her mother avoiding her gaze.

 

“That will only get you so far until there’s dissent within the ranks.  Look at how quickly support has rallied around you and your mother time and again-” Liam opened his arms wide, clearly indicating the castle that was filled to bursting and the troops camped along the shoreline. “No, Regina, as well as Zelena in her disguise, relied on something far stronger than fear to recruit their soldiers.  They turned to family.”

 

“What?  Regina is, er, was an only child and we don’t know a lot about Zelena but she seems like the type to hate her family, not embrace them,” Emma pointed out, not liking the turn the conversation was making.

 

“Regina may have been raised as an only child but that doesn’t mean she had no family,” Liam countered. “In the wake of her own heinous acts many people forgot that she was a minor royal herself, even before she married King Leopold.  Her father was the fifth in line for the throne but the favorite sibling of their heir nonetheless.  William and Henry were so close that their heirs were raised practically side by side until Regina’s mother Cora put a stop to it.  Regina never forgot about her cousin, the one who ascended to the throne of a small kingdom that had a powerful navy…”

 

“Balliolshire,” Emma breathed out, stunned. “Your father was her cousin.”

 

“Aye, but I didn’t become aware of the fact until I became king.  The connection has been erased from public records but it was in my father and grandfather’s personal journals.  The bloodline was easy to trace in the older, more private records kept by our private historians,” Liam grimaced, as though merely acknowledging the connection had left a bad taste in his mouth.

 

“Did you know?” Emma asked, turning to Snow who was looking at her sadly.

 

“Yes-” Snow’s eyes dropped to her hands where she was fiddling with her wedding ring. “When my father decided to make Regina his wife her family history was closely scrutinized by the council.  At the time they still had the power to denounce a match if it was unsuitable.”

 

“Is that why I’d never heard of Liam or Killian until they were sent to capture me?  It was more than just keeping an ally of Regina’s at arm’s length.  You didn’t want there to be a chance that I might fall in love with someone that has her family’s blood running through their veins!  And you!” She whirled back to face Liam, “Is this why you loathe me so much?  Why you came here hating that Killian had chosen me, someone who has never fully ruled out the possibility of just killing Regina to spare us the trouble of keeping her alive?  Are you afraid I would go after the rest of her family since Zelena’s just as power hungry and murderous as her sister?”

 

“Emma!”

 

Emma ignored Snow, well aware that her accusations were groundless.  Killian had told her of his and Liam’s promise to break their kingdom’s ties with Regina.  One the brothers had made long before they had ever met Emma.  In a not so small part of her mind she knew that she was lashing out over the mounting frustrations that kept piling up.  She had once toasted to Fate with Killian as a joke and she felt that Fate had taken offence instead and was punishing them all for it.

 

“We may be linked by blood but that woman is not family,” Liam ground out, scowling.  Then he added reluctantly, “And I don’t hate you.”

 

“But you don’t like me,” Emma pointed out, daring him to contradict her.

 

“Killian is a good man but he is impetuous and has let his temper rule when a cooler head should have prevailed.  He has let himself be swayed before by a woman he whom he believed to love to almost disastrous ends.  Since meeting you, Swan, he has been forced into situations he never would have found himself in on his own and now he’s lost in another realm in the clutches of a mad witch.  Forgive me if the last thing on my mind right now is finding reasons to like you.”

 

Liam stated it without malice but Emma still felt as though he had been yelling at her.  She could see her mother opening her mouth to either defend her, scold Liam like a child, or both and was almost willing to let him suffer under the verbal lashing but knew in the end it wouldn’t accomplish anything.  As she placed her hand over Snow’s to calm her she maintained eye contact with Liam.  It was a lesson she’d learned from her father: the first blow wasn’t always made by a blade, not when a word or even a look could cut deeper.

 

She nearly crowed in victory when Liam broke his gaze away from hers first but became puzzled when his eyes neither dropped down nor skittered around the room, instead focusing on a point over her shoulder.  When she turned to look for herself she jumped in surprise at the overlarge snowflake floating in front of her nose.  Unlike with the messenger from Phrygia a missive from Elsa had two different possibilities: either more information regarding her grandfather’s movements or word on the location of the Brooke.  With trembling fingers Emma reached up to grab it and watched nervously as it transformed into an icy letter.

 

_ Emma, _

 

_ The Brooke has been spotted by our patrols heading towards Balliolshire waters.  They were unable to get close enough to try and overtake her.  Whoever is captaining her is skilled and has no compunction firing against a royal navy vessel.  Be careful. _

 

The letter had barely melted in her hands before she was conjuring her glittering birds.  First was a response for Elsa, thanking her for the information and her help, next were identical ones for Roland and Grace instructing them to send nearly everyone they were out scouting with back to the castle and to make their way to the main port of Balliolshire to wait for her, and last she created an exotic bird she’d once seen on a tropical isle for Anton.  Since she had returned from the beanstalk she’d sent him messages regularly, even though he had no way to respond but she knew that he appreciated every one of them all the same.

 

Emma felt a slight pang as she created the message.  Anton would be happy that they had found her ship and the possibility of finding a bean along with it but there was a shadow lurking behind every word.  Even without explicitly saying so it was easy to read that she was telling him goodbye.  She knew herself well enough that once she started for the Brooke she would stop for anything, not even to send a true message of farewell.

 

“Emma?”

 

She pulled her gaze away from the fading trail left by the large bird winging its way to Anton.  Snow and Liam were watching her with matching looks of wariness.  They too knew that a message from Elsa could be another blow or could be a buoy of hope.  Grinning triumphantly she tapped her finger on the map that was spread out across them table indicating which troops were where

 

“Elsa’s men found the Brooke heading towards Balliolshire,” she said excitedly. “We need a ship and only a few men to crew her.  Roland and Grace will meet us in Williamsport and we’ll run the Brooke down from there.”

 

Her enthusiasm faded as she realized that neither her mother or Liam were showing any indication that they were in any way as happy as she was with the news.  In fact, they both seemed more troubled than they had been after they had learned of George’s new alliance.  Emma’s smile faded and she prepared herself to rally against the arguments for her to wait or to not go at all.

 

“Sweetheart,” Snow said gently, “I won’t be going with you.”

 

“I-” Emma stopped short, all her thoughts leaving her instantly. “What?”

 

“We’re on the brink of a war with King George.  Every day more and more people who had fled when Regina took back the throne have been returning.  There are decisions that need to be made that will affect our kingdom for generations to come.  If I am to regain the trust of our people, to truly earn my place as their queen, I cannot abandon them when they need me most.”

 

Snow’s voice had been strong, resolute, as she had spoken but wavered at the end.  Emma knew it was a rehearsed speech, coming from a decision that hadn’t been made impulsively or lightly, but the blow was still a surprise.  She had only just found her mother, she wasn’t prepared to lose her again.

 

“What about the people who are missing?  They’re your subjects too!” Emma said hotly, resolutely ignoring Liam who seemed to be scrutinizing her closely.  She leaned forward and haltingly asked the question she never thought she’d have to, “What about Daddy?”

 

At that something in Snow’s eyes dimmed and she seemed to age ten years.  Emma blinked back tears.

 

“I love your father more than I can put words to and I have missed him every single moment we have been separated.  There are days where I cannot- cannot breathe, where I wonder if Regina really had crushed my heart but kept me alive to suffer.  Even the joy of being reunited with you is bittersweet because I look to my side and David, my Charming isn’t- he isn’t here.”

 

Snow buried her face in her hands as her whole frame shook with the force of her sobs.  Emma immediately pushed herself out of her chair and rounded the table, dropping to her knees at her mother’s side and hugging her as best she could.  It became easier to tighten her hold when Snow slipped from the chair and pulled her desperately closer.  She couldn’t fight the tears that were falling from her own eyes even if she had wanted to.

 

When she finally felt somewhat steady she pulled back and nearly starting crying again at the anguish etched in Snow’s face.

 

“Come with me,” Emma pleaded, her voice barely loud enough to hear the words, “Please.”

 

“I love your father,” Snow repeated vehemently, her voice cracking with emotion, “but we made a promise.  The kingdom, our people, must come first no matter how much we want to choose otherwise.  We thought that it was a decision that neither of us would ever have to make but it was something we needed to have a plan for.  Now that I have to make that decision it is the most difficult, agonizing thing I’ve ever had to do.  The only reason I’m not breaking the promise I made and finding Charming myself is because I know that you will bring him home to me.  I have no doubts about that.”

 

“I don’t know if I can,” Emma whispered.

 

It was a thought that had kept her up at night and settled on her shoulders like a heavy winter cloak during the day.  When she wrote her letters to Killian it had become harder and harder to keep her tone optimistic, to not let her growing despair leak into the words.  If she could only blame the rumor surrounding the murmurs that she was ‘The Savior’ she believed it would have been easier to shake off her doubts.  Unfortunately the thoughts that plagued her were ones she had wrestled with from the age of sixteen, when she’d been forced from the life she had always known.  The added pressure of saving her entire kingdom had only magnified the weight of her doubts.

 

“Of course you can, sweetheart,” Snow murmured with a confident smile.  She gently cupped her face and wiped away the tracks her tears had left, “Look how much you’ve achieved already.  You found me, you forged alliances with kingdoms we never would have otherwise, and we stand a chance against King George because your magic gets messages to the troops and their leaders much faster and more reliably than my birds ever could.  Not to mention everything you’ve been up against and prevailed over since we were torn apart.  You are so much stronger and capable than you realize Emma.”

 

“Maybe I should be the one to stay behind,” Emma said, giving a watery chuckle as Snow wiped away the tears that had started again.

 

“Nonsense-” Snow tsked, “I don’t even know what your Killian looks like.  It wouldn’t do for me to bring back a stranger who hasn’t had the great privilege of winning my daughter’s heart.”

 

“Take the Jewel.”

 

Liam’s voice was quiet, reminding her of where she was and that he had witnessed her vulnerability.  She sucked in a deep, calming breath and wiped at her cheeks and nose with as much dignity as she could muster.  Letting out the breath she stood, crossed her arms and hoped he thought the red in her cheeks was from annoyance at him and not embarrassment that he had something to lord over her.

 

“We have plenty of ships I can use.  I don’t need your pity.”

 

Emma watched as Liam’s jaw and fist clenched simultaneously.  His eyes dropped to the map in front of him and from what Emma could guess he was seemingly counting the little colorful markers that indicated what troops where where.  When he looked back up at her a moment later only the spark in his eyes belied the calm demeanor he had donned.

 

“I’m not offering her out of pity or obligation, Swan.  The Jewel is the fastest ship in the realm, which I’m sure you’re aware of-”

 

“Never had the chance to run her down,” Emma grumbled.

 

“What you might not be privy to-” Liam continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “is that she’s made out of enchanted wood.”

 

“Enchanted… wood?”

 

She shared a skeptical look with Snow who had seemingly pulled herself back together.  She was sitting in her chair once more, her red tipped nose and overly bright eyes the only indication that she had recently been crying.  Then, to Emma’s surprise, Snow’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

 

“How did you come by enough of that wood to build an entire ship?” Snow’s voice was hard, “The Enchanted Woods were decimated decades ago.”

 

The tips of Liam’s ears flared a bright red, matched by the color high on his cheeks.  Emma watched in fascination as he fidgeted in his seat, looking remarkably like a child being scolded for behaving poorly.  His gaze traveled between her, her mother, and the map on the table before he sighed and finally focused on Snow.

 

“It was an incentive, a reward.  If we were able to eliminate the pirate threat from Misthaven waters Regi- Zelena promised us something better than riches.  When we succeeded she gifted Balliolshire the wood and heavily implied that the more pirate ships and their captains we sent to a watery grave the more wood we would receive.  Our primary focus had been finding and destroying Blackbeard and the Revenge when we were forced to pursue the Brooke instead.”

 

“Just how many of your ships are made from the enchanted wood?” Snow questioned, her voice like steel.

 

“The Jewel is they only ship made entirely from the wood we were given.  What remained was distributed amongst her sister ships, mainly along their hulls or for a spar or two.  The Jewel is the only one we’ve been able to discern any type of difference in, however-” he paused, seemingly unwilling to continue.  When Emma raised her brow he sighed, “Her design had already guaranteed the she would have been fast on open water but with the wood she is leagues faster than what our master shipbuilders could have ever anticipated.  She has weathered storms that have sunk other seemingly hardier ships.  Rumor among the men that have sailed on her is that she could withstand anything, even travelling across realms.”

 

“And what do you believe?” Emma asked, not entirely willing to trust his claim.

 

“The Jewel is a ship beyond compare,” Liam said, looking at her straight in the eye, “I would not have offered her for you to use if I didn’t believe her capable of accomplishing what was needed of her.”

 

“Okay,” she said quietly, then louder and more firmly, “Okay, I’ll take her.”

 

“However, I have one request to make.”

 

“What?” She asked warily.

 

“Take Turner with you.  I would ask to accompany you myself but the reasons that prevent your mother from going are the same that keep me bound here as well.  Turner is as much an older brother to Killian as Thompson was a younger one to me.  If I cannot help you find my brother allow Turner to go in my stead.  Please.”

 

Emma wasn’t sure if it was the intensity with which he was looking at her or the uninhibited desperation in his voice but she found herself nodding.  Liam’s shoulders dropped in relief and then his eyes narrowed.

 

“I expected more of a fight from you, Swan.”

 

She shrugged, “If getting Turner to join me was the only thing you were going to be stubborn about I figured I’d save us time and a lot of arguing.  I also know that if I was the one who had to stay behind I’d sleep better knowing someone I trusted was going for me.”

 

Liam scrutinized her closely before giving her a tense nod.  She couldn’t help feeling as though she had passed some kind of unspoken test.  It was a feeling that was confirmed as he gave her a small, genuine smile when he noticed she was still looking at him.

 

“When do you plan on leaving?”

 

“As soon as I can muster up the minimal amount of people it takes to sail the Jewel,” Emma answered resolutely.  Snow’s shoulders dropped and she continued apologetically, “If I hadn’t already sent instructions to Grace and Roland I might have been able to delay a day or two.”

 

“No, no, sweetheart,” Snow said quickly, shaking her head, “You finally have a lead on your ship.  There’s no time to waste if you’re to catch her.”

 

Emma was relieved Snow had neglected to mention anything about time remaining in regards to the Savior prophecy.  It had been a constant buzz in the background of her thoughts, like a gnat circling around her ear that avoided all attempts at being swatted away.  With her birthday so near the buzz had steadily grown to a roar.

 

“I’ll take my leave and gather the sailors you need.  I assure you that between yourself and Turner only two or three more hands will do.  It’s a number I can easily spare, yet another perk of a ship made with enchanted wood-” With an uncharacteristic wink reminiscent of his brother Liam made his way to the doors leading out of the room.  He paused before opening them and looked back at her, all traces of humor gone, “I’m trusting you to bring my little brother back, Emma.  He’s all I have left.”

 

She could only nod in return.  His quiet sincerity and the use of her real name had robbed her of her voice.  He accepted her nod for the promise it was and gave one in return before he slipped from the room.

 

“Emma, you  _ can _ do this.”

 

Turning back to Snow her chin began to wobble.  Even on the cusp of another separation her mother had unerring confidence that was evident in both her tone of voice and the smile on her face.

 

“Please come with me,” Emma whispered. “I just got you back.  I don’t want to leave you again.”

 

“Oh, Emma,” Snow moved to crouch down beside her, running gentle fingers through her hair and down her cheeks, “It’ll only be for a short while and when you succeed and come back to me we will all be together again.  Although your father and I may be losing you once more if you and Killian are anything like Charming and I were after we had been forced apart time and again.”

 

Emma blushed at Snow’s implication.

 

“When I find Dad what should I tell him?” She asked in a small voice, avoiding the topic of marriage altogether.

 

“That I love him and I miss him-” Snow brushed back Emma’s hair and placed her hands on her shoulders, “-and that when he gets back we need to have a serious discussion about how to handle this mess with King George.”

 

Despite the tears that had been threatening to fall Emma found herself laughing instead.  Snow laughed with her, looking pleased.  When they settled Emma knew that it was time for her to leave or she would end up lingering and lose the chance of finding the Brooke.  The sad smile Snow was giving her let her know that her mother had come to the same conclusion.

 

“Go on, sweetheart.  I’ll be fine,” Snow assured her. “With Liam and the other kingdoms George won’t stand a chance against us.”

 

“I’ll have Elsa direct her snowflakes to you,” Emma said quickly. “Anton won’t be expecting visitors but I’ll leave my cuff on my desk anyway.  Just, don’t send Will up there.  If I can I’ll try to send a message before we take the portal.  I mean if there’s actually a bean left or if we even catch up to the Brooke.  I’ll send a message even if we don’t-”

 

“Emma, leave the unnecessary worrying to me.  You have a ship to find.”

 

With a huff of laughter Emma fought once more against tears as she stood and pulled Snow into a fierce hug.  Her mother returned it with equal fervor, sniffling lightly.  Snow gave her a final squeeze and then pulled away, her tears falling freely.  Emma’s own tears finally fell as she made her way out of the room.  Within the hour she was on her way with Turner and two others, heading for the Jewel on horseback.

 

Despite Liam’s assurance Emma had been skeptical about his claims regarding the speed of the Jewel.  It was only once she had brought the ship out to open waters that she believed him.  The Jewel had practically flown as she had made her way to Balliolshire and Emma’s hope had soared right along with her.  The minor delay in Williamsport to gather supplies hadn’t even come close to dampening her newfound optimism.

 

Yet, with the astounding speed and the palpable anticipation from her small crew there had been no sign of the Brooke.  As the days had worn on and they had criss crossed the sea in every direction spirits had begun to fall, none more so than Emma’s.  She hadn’t spent more than thirty minutes away from the helm in nearly three days.  Therefore she was unsurprised someone was making their way towards her.  It was a surprise that it was Turner, looking far too nonchalant as he stepped up to the helm.  He stood next to her and clasped his hands behind him, looking out across the deck.

 

“The last time I saw someone so diligently remaining at the helm Liam was trying to get us home as quickly as possible to try and control the upheaval his father’s murder had created.  He cursed himself blue in the face and threw me in the brig for two days once the poppy powder wore off.  The bastard.”

 

The snarling retort she’d had ready died on her tongue.  She hadn’t been prepared for the anecdote or the shockingly casual way Turner had told it to her.  He smiled at her silence.

 

“Liam was my friend long before he was my king.  Which can work both for and against us in certain situations-” Turner dipped his head towards her, as though ready to impart a great secret, “I can see why Killian was drawn to you.  He hasn’t always had it easy with both his father and Liam each pressuring him to follow in their vastly different footsteps.  I imagine you challenged the part of him that was ready to find a way of his own.”

 

“You never-” Emma shook her head slowly, her thoughts muddled by exhaustion and the bewildering conversation, “You never saw us together.  I mean, we weren’t anything when I first met you.  I barely knew Killian at that point.  He was just some idiot who didn’t know when to give up!”

 

Turner snorted in laughter as he straightened, mystifying Emma with the sound.

 

“Killian’s obstinance is a familial trait.  Waiting for either he or Liam to bend to the other’s will is truly a test of patience.  Having the privilege of getting to know you these past months and serving under you as first mate this past week has shown me what Liam refuses to see himself.”

 

“And what’s that?” She asked hesitantly, suddenly desperate to hear what he had to say.

 

“That you are Killian’s perfect match,” Turner said with an easy shrug of his shoulders, as though he had merely stated that water was wet or that fire burned. “Much better than Jaqueline ever could have been.  Even when she nearly succeeded in deceiving us all.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

Emma was suspicious, even as her curiosity was piqued by the unfamiliar name.

 

“Perhaps it’s because at any moment we’re about to leave our realm and I want you to know that you can trust me.  Perhaps it’s my way of apologizing for my past behavior and meaning it-” he leaned down, turning towards her, “Or perhaps I’m merely trying to appeal to your softer side so when I suggest taking an hour or two’s rest you’ll consider it.”

 

“You would have had better luck with the poppy powder,” she grumbled, firmly planting her feet and tightening her grip on the helm.

 

“I considered it but it affects everyone differently.  I assure you, knocking you out for a day or two is not my intention,” Turner hummed.

 

“A day or two?  No wonder Liam threw you in the brig!”

 

Turner gave that snorting laugh again, “He was out for four days, actually.  I may have been a bit heavy handed when I pulled from the pouch.”

 

Emma burst into surprised laughter.  Turner gave her a wide, unabashed smile that made her laugh all the more.  When curious heads turned towards them across the deck and popped up from below she lost control completely.  Tears streamed from her eyes and her stomach cramped in her mirth but she was caught up in the current.  She realized in a detached way that the stress and exhaustion were contributing to her laughing fit but it felt too good to let go that she let it run its course.  When her giggles finally tapered off she wiped the moisture from her cheeks and gave Turner a resigned look.

 

“I will go rest for one hour if-” she held up her finger and narrowed her eyes at him- “you tell me what that Jaqueline woman did that made Liam so fixed in his judgement of me.”

 

All traces of humor drained from Turner’s face, leaving her with the stoic, tight lipped vice admiral she’d come to know.  Emma lowered her finger and her gaze as her mind whirled with all the possibilities of what had happened with that woman and if she was the same one that Liam had mentioned before.  As she was about to apologize for prying Turner sighed and looked at her with an apologetic smile of his own.

 

“It’s not my story to tell, Captain, especially if Killian hasn’t spoken of her to you.  You deserve to hear it from him and not the second hand account I would give,” Turner hesitated then gently placed his hand on her arm, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “I can say that it’s taken many years for Killian to open his heart again.  It comes as no surprise to me that it was you he was willing to do it for.”

 

Emma felt her cheeks heat up and quickly faced the prow.  They were sailing at a steady clip and the sea was unbroken in every direction around them.  The sun was only at the beginning of its daily climb, nowhere near warm enough to thaw the autumn chill in the air.  She sighed and stepped back relinquishing her hold on the helm.

 

“Keep her on course, if they’re using the same winds we might finally find them.  Send someone to wake me before the midday meal if the Brooke remains elusive.”

 

“Aye, Captain,” Turner said easily accepting her orders as he moved into the space she had vacated.

 

She gave him a nod and headed down to the captain’s quarters that she’d barely used in the week they’d been at sea.  Without even bothering to remove her boots she laid down, wondering if she’d be able to relax enough to fall asleep.  For a few minutes the tempest of thoughts in her overtired mind seemed to prove her right on that account.  Then, as she allowed herself to contemplate the mystery of what had happened between Killian and the mysterious Jaqueline she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

What felt like only moments later Emma woke to the sounds of boots pounding overhead.  She had barely stood up when Roland burst into the cabin.

 

“We found her!”

 

Emma wasted no time as she crossed the cabin, barely pausing long enough to grab her sword in its scabbard.  As she fastened it at her waist she made her way upwards, trying to shake off the last tendrils of sleep and barely listening to the words tripping out of Roland’s mouth.  When she stepped out into the light that she vaguely noted was that of early evening one of Liam’s men, not much older than a boy really with dark brown hair and eyes, handed her a spyglass and pointed off the starboard side.  It only took a few seconds before she had her ship in her sights.

 

The Brooke looked much like she had the first time Emma had seen her.  A few of her sails were messily patched, her paint was peeling, and from what she could tell there seemed to be something wrong with the main mast.  Red and Pinocchio had called her insane for choosing such a run down ship for their ventures but they had helped Emma build her back up to a thing of beauty.  Indignation ran through her veins to see her beloved ship once more in such a state of neglectful disrepair.

 

“We’ll be within firing range within the next ten minutes,” Turner called down to her.

 

“Aim for the water,” Emma barked at the men manning the cannons.  She looked at the skinny, dark haired young man who had handed her the spyglass, “Ever been in a battle at sea?”

 

“Er, no, Cap’n,” he squirmed slightly under her gaze.  Then he puffed up his chest in an attempt at bravado, “Can’t be much different than a fight on land, cannit?  Although, there’s more chance of drowning out here.”

 

“True,” Emma said with a grim smile. “What’s your name?”

 

“Martin but I prefer Marty if it’s all the same, Cap’n,” Marty answered with a toothy grin.

 

“Alright, Marty,” she handed him back the spyglass. “Get yourself up in the crow’s nest and take note of everything you can as we approach.  I want to know how many hands are on deck, if they’re loading their cannons, the look of their captain, everything.  Got it?”

 

“Aye, aye Cap’n.”

 

Marty gave her a sort of half salute before scurrying across the deck and up the mast as only someone his age could manage.  She followed his ascent until he was firmly in the crow’s nest, the spyglass jutting out from his eye.  There was something familiar about him but she didn’t have the time to worry over it.  Turning to Roland she motioned for him to follow her to the helm.

 

“Do they know they’re being pursued, Turner?”

 

“Aye, they spotted us almost the exact moment we spotted them,” Turner said tersely, making small adjustments on the wheel, “They’re running with full sails and from the way they’re handling her they’re well versed in outrunning when they’re outgunned.  I’d wager good money that we have pirates on our hands.”

 

“Then it’s a good thing there’s a pirate calling the shots-” Emma winked at Roland who bit his lip against a smile.  She raised her voice to carry above the wind, “As soon as we’re close enough I want two warning shots fired on their port side.  Only two.  We’ll get a read on what they intend to do before engaging further.”

 

She watched as half the men and women moved across the deck in uncoordinated and stiff movements.  Grace had seemingly lost her ease at sea while Roland and the three others they’d picked up in Williamsport had all admitted they’d never set foot on a ship.  Emma and Turner had tried to teach them what they could in the week that they had been sailing but as the days had gone by she had stuck to the helm and Turner had tried as best he could with them.  As she watched she was once again reminded of the early days on the Brooke.  Although she was pretty sure she hadn’t looked as out of place as Roland, who seemed to be nearly as tall and as wide as the Jewel’s mast.

 

“We’re in range, Captain,” Turner informed her, his voice tight with anticipation.

 

“Fire two shots when ready,” she ordered grimly.

 

“Fire!”

 

At Turner’s command the starboard side cannons fired.  Emma watched with trepidation as the shots arced towards her beloved ship.  She breathed a small sigh of relief as they landed right where she’d ordered off the port side.  The Brooke rocked in the waves created by the cannon balls but showed no sign of slowing.  With a frown she was about to pull out her spyglass when a hand shoved one under her nose.

 

“There’s only five or six of them, Cap’n.  All looking a little worse for wear if you ask me-” Marty grinned widely at her, his hair a windswept riot. “The man who looked to be captain was the worst of the lot and I don’t mean dirt and grime.  From what I could see he’s either fought his way to the position or fought to keep it ‘cause he’s missing an eye and the bandage looks fresh.”

 

“Orders, Captain?”

 

“Hold fire,” Emma commanded, her voice carrying across the deck once more. “Sail us right up alongside the Brook.  When we’re close enough take out the main mast.”

 

“I’m not sure we’ll even be able to get close enough without them returning fire, Captain,” Turner said somewhat diplomatically, clearly trying not to upset her by questioning her orders.

 

“Leave that to me, Turner.  You just worry about getting us into position.”

 

Emma placed her hands on the rail, flexing her fingers on the smooth wood.  Her hands began to glow and she gave a satisfied grin when there was no sign of a single tremor from them.  The magic spread quickly through the grains of wood, racing along the hull and up the mast, casting a glittering glow over the ship momentarily.  She wasn’t sure if it was the enchanted wood or the familiarity of the spell but it seemed between one moment and the next the glow encompassed the whole ship and then snapped into nothingness.  The Jewel appeared unaffected but Emma could feel, much like wisps of smoke across her skin, that the cloaking magic had worked.  Her shoulders relaxed and she confidently watched as they approached the Brook with unnatural speed.

 

“What did you do?” Turner asked, his mouth slightly ajar in awe and his eyes alight with confusion.

 

“A trick that kept me from being spotted by governesses and patrolling ships with equal success,” Emma said proudly.

 

It had taken a lot of practice for her to master the cloaking spell she had inadvertently discovered as a child.  What had sufficed for a minute or two while a governess or tutor was looking for her in her nursery or in the gardens had been woefully inadequate in hiding an entire ship and the people on it.  There had been a few close calls and many frustrations before she had been able to do it completely and consistently.  Once she’d mastered it she had started building up her reputation as Captain Swan and had begun her attacks on Misthaven ships.

 

Before she had a chance to explain fully they were sailing alongside the Brooke, just within the short range of their cannons.  While she didn’t need the spyglass any longer she put it to her eye anyway and instantly agreed with Marty’s report.  The crew was bedraggled and gaunt, clearly unable to use the Brooke’s former reputation to their advantage.  As she watched more than one of them paused in their scrambling across the deck to catch their breath.

 

Marty’s observations about the captain hadn’t been far off either.  The man had a dirty, bloodstained bandage not only over one of his eyes but also one wrapped around his right forearm and another wrapped around the opposite thigh.  He was red-faced and yelling, gesturing wildly at the sea behind the Brooke.  Emma let out a chuckle as she lowered the spyglass and looked at Turner.

 

“Fire when ready.”

 

Emma tried not to flinch as the cannons were fired but had to close her eyes as the shots hit their marks.  She listened to the sounds of wood splintering, men yelling in panic and fear, and the triumphant cries of her own crew.  By the time she opened her eyes Turner was barking out orders to slow the ship down and prepare a boarding party.  Looking back at the Brooke she was devastated to see that one of the shots had landed short and the deck was a mass of smoking, splintered wood.  Her only hope was that the damage wasn’t too extensive and that she’d eventually be able to repair it.

 

For the entirety of the time it took for them to maneuver the Jewel to the Brooke’s starboard side Emma continued to keep the cloak on the ship.  They had dealt crippling damage to the Brooke but there were no illusions that the men on her would surrender easily.  She silently signalled to Roland, Grace, and the others to prepare for boarding.  The Brooke wasn’t entirely dead in the water but it was a close thing.

 

With a nod from Turner she gave a second signal to Roland and Grace.  Along with teaching the others how to sail they had practiced time and again how they would board the Brooke once she had been found.  In coordinated moves hooks were thrown from the rails of the Jewel to lodge in the ones on the Brooke as Roland and two others swung across to land on her decks.  Emma kept the cloak on for a few moments longer, waiting for the planks that Grace and Marty had dropped down between the ships were somewhat secure and ready for the others to cross.  The surprised yelps the crew on the Brooke had voiced when the hooks and men had seemingly appeared out of nowhere became shouting curses as they were swarmed by Emma’s crew and she ended the cloaking spell.

 

Emma remained on the Jewel with Turner, anxiously shifting from foot to foot as she waited.  They had all agreed that she would only enter the fray when they had the upper hand in the fight.  There had been no discussion about what would happen if they were the ones at a disadvantage.

 

“Marty and I have the Jewel in hand, Captain.  If you go over now you’ll have a better chance of catching that poor excuse for a captain unawares,” Turner said conversationally, only raising his voice a little to be heard over the cacophony of sounds.

 

“Looks like he’s willing to fight to the death for your your ship, Cap’n,” Marty said with a tinge of awe.  He pointed towards the Brooke’s helm where the other captain was successfully holding off two of their men, “How do you plan on getting up there?”

 

Emma unsheathed her sword and gave Marty a playful wink, “Like this.”

 

She furrowed her brow in concentration, focusing on the open deck behind the other captain.  A cloud of white smoke quickly engulfed her as she felt a pull in her stomach that she’d only experienced once before.  The smoke cleared as quickly as it had appeared and Emma grinned widely when she found herself looking at the heaving back of the other captain.  Her sneak attack was thwarted, however, when the men the captain was fighting both gasped, causing the captain to strike out with his foot, knocking out the men he was fighting and immediately spinning around to defend himself.

 

The man was quick and strong despite his injuries and the fighting he had been engaged in.  He was sweating profusely but his breath was steady as we went on the attack.  Emma could see how he had held command of the Brooke for so long.  She would have been impressed if she wasn’t trying to gain the upper hand in their fight.

 

“Should ‘ave known it was you, sweets,” he sneered, his fetid breath washing over her. “No one wants anythin’ to do wi’ this ship on account o’ the princess o’ Misthaven lookin’ for it.”

 

“Then why are you so determined to keep it?” Emma asked as she quickly ducked under one of his swings and backed up a few paces.

 

“Takin’ it as me payment.  The least you owe me for leavin’ me stranded wi’ a dead captain and a ship tha’ was more flotsam than vessel.”

 

Emma parried a blow as she realized what he was talking about, “You were on Blackbeard’s ship?”

 

“Aye, Miggs is the name and I had both me eyes an’ proper respeck ta boot last you saw me.  Been runnin’ a tad short on both at the mo’.”

 

Miggs gave a loud guffaw as he made brutal strikes against her sword that reverberated all the way up her arms, rattling her teeth in her skull.  Emma ducked again and heard his sword thunk dully into the rail as she scrambled away.  She tried to catch her breath as he wrestled his sword free.  Her arms ached and she realized with desperation that if he had been fighting with brute strength alone she could have outmaneuvered him.  Unfortunately he had competence with the weapon as well and it meant nothing good for her.

 

“Aha!”

 

He wrenched the sword free and stalked toward her.  She raised her sword but it trembled slightly in her grasp as her muscles protested.  Miggs gave her a wide, predatory smile as he slowly stalked toward her, tapping her sword teasingly with the tip of his own.

 

“I don’ know who will pay the more handsome reward for your hide, sweets, your mother, your grandfather, or King Arthur.”

 

“What?”

 

Her sword dipped slightly in stupefied shock and Miggs took the opportunity to strike.  His attack was faster and more powerful than she thought him capable of, wiping all thoughts from her mind.  She tried to keep him at bay but he was too vicious and clearly looking to go further than merely incapacitating her.  He forced her back to the rail as his smile gleamed triumphant.

 

“Do you think they’ll pay me t’all for your corpse?”

 

“I’m not letting you find out,” she gasped.

 

In a final, desperate attempt she raised her hand and concentrated with all her might.  A bright flash erupted from her palm.  It hit Miggs squarely in the chest, sending him flying back to the opposite rail.  She watched in horror as he hit it with a sickening crack and tumbled head first overboard.  The sound of him hitting the water couldn’t be heard over the pounding in her ears and Emma rushed to look over the side, dreading what she would see.

 

Miggs was floating face down between the ships, unmoving aside from the rise and fall of the sea that had become his grave.  She forced herself to look away, feeling nauseous.  He wasn’t the first person she’d had to kill and likely wouldn’t be the last but those thoughts did nothing to assuage the guilt that was pressing down on her.

 

“Emma?”

 

She startled as Roland’s hand settled tentatively on her shoulder.  The sounds of fighting had ceased around her.  With a scan of the deck she noted with grim satisfaction that her crew had successfully subdued the pirates.  Grace and three others were tying up the defeated men while another was checking for injuries.  Roland was watching her with concern through the beginnings of two black eyes, caused by the newly crooked set of his nose.

 

“You need to get that fixed or it’ll heal crooked,” she said dully, sheathing her sword.

 

“It had to be done,” Roland said with a nod towards the water.

 

“See to it the prisoners are placed in the brig and everyone but you, Grace and Turner are moved to the Brooke.  Since none of ours were killed the positions I assigned will remain,” she ordered, ignoring the hitch in her voice and Roland’s furrowing brow. “I’ll inform Elsa and Liam of our coordinates to allow them to come to the aid of those we leave behind.  Once the moves have been made begin searching for the bean.  Start with the hold.  Triple check everything.”

 

Emma dismissed him with a gentle squeeze of his elbow as she turned to head towards the captain’s cabin.  As she went she conjured her message for Liam and Elsa and then one for Turner to give him the same instructions she had given to Roland.  She sent a final one to her mother as she dropped below deck into the cabin that had once been hers.

 

Three hours later the cabin looked as though a typhoon had torn through it.  Emma was no closer to finding the bean than when she had entered it.  Miggs hadn’t done much to the cabin during his short tenure as captain, aside from staining her blankets with spilled wine and food grease.  He had also made what looked like several failed attempts to break into her safe but nothing else seemed disturbed.  The safe had been the first thing she’d opened and as she sifted through the contents for a fourth time she began to consider the notion that she would never find the bean.

 

The others weren’t having any better luck.  Marty had taken it upon himself to be a go between, relaying the progress between those spread across the rest of the ship and herself.  Grace had a group going through the crew’s quarters while Turner and Roland had the rest coming though the hold for the second time.  She had even tried locating the bean using her magic but nothing had happened, not even a tiny spark of light.

 

“Cap’n?”

 

Looking up Emma saw Marty standing in the doorway once more but with a more dejected air about him than he’d had the previous times.

 

“Nothing?”

 

“‘Fraid not.  Grace and her lot are going through the galley now and Turner’s wondering if we should hold off searching some more until the morning.  Roland glared daggers at him for that one.  At least I think it was a glare, his nose is so swollen. Then he mumbled something about a prophecy.  Either way they’re about done in the hold and want to know where to look next.”

 

She blew out a frustrated breath as she reigned in the urge to hurl the wooden box she had been sifting through across the room.  It was full of gemstones and gold and silver ingots that had all once been fine pieces of jewelry on their way to Misthaven’s castle.  Instead she closed it with a sharp snap and placed it on the desk in front of her among a few other items she believed would be of use to them in the unknown realm.  With a frown she realized that her hand had begun to twitch.

 

“I’m inclined to agree with Turner,” Emma sighed as she tightly gripped one hand with the other. “We’ve been at this for hours, there’s not a lot of candles to spare, and we did were in a heavy fight before all this.  Maybe some rest would help us find what we’ve missed in the morning.”

 

“If I tell Roland that he’ll never believe me!” Marty whined, shaking his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll want to tell him yourself?”

 

“Might as well-” she shrugged. “I’ve been sitting here too long as it is.”

 

As she stood she stretched, wincing at the pull on her muscles and the pops in her joints.  She vaguely wished she was as young as Marty again if only to ease the aches she’d felt after a hard day like the one she’d had.

 

“Better here than trying to maneuver around Roland.  Mans not built for life on a ship.”

 

Emma huffed out a laugh.  Marty grinned, clearly pleased to have elicited a positive reaction from her.  He glanced around the cabin before focusing on something by his feet.  Nudging it with the toe of his boot she saw it was a large, black tricorn hat trimmed with golden thread.

 

“Did you wear this when you sailed this ship, Cap’n?”

 

“No, I dressed the same as the crew,” she said slowly, thoughtfully. “It kept people from knowing who the captain actually was.”

 

“Can’t see that Miggs fellow wearing it though-” Marty bent down and picked it up.  He looked it over before placing it lopsidedly on his head, “Who’d you suppose it belonged to?”

 

“Give it here-” she held out her hand impatiently as she nearly burst with anticipation. “I think it was Blackbeard’s.  Miggs must have brought it with him from the Revenge.”

 

“Why?” Marty asked, clearly confused as he handed her the hat.

 

“Because-” she murmured as she carefully ran her fingers along the inner seams. “If I had something more valuable than any treasure I could pillage and small enough to keep in my pocket I’d hide it somewhere no one would think to look but would still be with me all the time…”

 

Finally her fingers ran across a misshapen lump along the inside rim of one of the upturned flaps of the hat.  It took a moment of fumbling, due not only to her excitement but also to the design of the pocket, before she was able to extricate the contents.  When she opened her hand two glittering translucent beans were sitting in her palm.

 

“Marty, inform the others of our discovery,” she said calmly as her heart thumped in her chest in double time. “If you please.”

 

“SHE’S GOT IT!” Marty bellowed as he tripped out of the room, knocking into the opposite wall before skidding down the passageway. “THE CAP’N FOUND IT!  SHE FOUND THE BEANS!”

 

Emma laughed a little hysterically at Marty’s yelling that she could still hear clearly as he moved through the ship.  With somewhat nerveless hands she gathered the items she’d set aside on the desk and shoved them into an empty sack.  She didn’t care a whit about the rest of the cabin, those left behind could clean it up while they waited for the rescue ship to come for them.  Grasping tightly onto the beans she made her way up to the deck.

 

It was a cold, clear night.  From the position of the stars Emma guessed it was near midnight.  She laughed again, the sound raw and panicky.  When the new day began it would be her twenty-eighth birthday, the day prophecy stated she would break a curse.  Her hands began to shake at the thought.

 

“You did it!”

 

Roland’s triumphant cry was the only warning she had before she was engulfed by his strong arms and lifted off the deck.  He spun her around twice before setting her down, an elated smile on his face.  The others had gathered on the deck with him, all smiling tiredly and yet excited all the same.

 

“With Marty’s help, yes,” she said, shaking her palm at him and grinning at the rattle the beans gave off.  She turned to the sailor Wilson who was to act as captain until rescue came, “You’ve enough supplies to last you for at least four days.  A ship should be here well before then.  Let King Liam decide what to do with the prisoners, we captured them in his waters after all.”

 

“And your ship, Captain?”

 

“All repairs can wait until I return.  Don’t let anyone touch a single board on her.  Understood?”

 

“Understood.”

 

Emma looked over the crew they would be leaving behind.  They were good sailors and loyal to her despite only knowing her for a week.  She almost wished they could accompany her but it was too much of a risk for her to endanger even more lives than she already was.  With a nod she moved to the planks connecting the Brooke and the Jewel.

 

“We’ll sail far enough away that the portal shouldn’t affect your position.”

 

“Of course, Captain, just as you’d planned.  Get on with it now, time’s a wastin’.”

 

She smiled and crossed back to the Jewel without further comment.  Grace, Roland, and Turner quickly followed pulling the boards back to their deck as Wilson cut the lines anchoring the ships together.  Without prompting Turner took the helm as Grace worked to unfurl the sails and Roland hoisted the anchor.  Emma allowed herself one last look at the Brooke before moving to the helm herself to grab Anton’s compass before proceeding to the prow of the ship at practically a run.

 

It was almost like an itch under her skin, having to wait until they had sailed far enough away for the Brooke to be safe from the reaches of a portal.  Emma found herself continually swinging her gaze between the ship behind them and the open sea in front of them.  Finally Turner hollered at her over the wind at the same moment she judged they were at a safe distance.

 

Holding tightly to the compass in her left hand she pulled one of the beans from vest pocket she had slid them into.  It seemed to gleam in the starlight, as though reflecting the constellations of lands not yet traveled.  Emma closed her eyes and wished with all her might that it would work.

 

“Please.”

 

Her whisper was lost to the wind as she opened her eyes and threw the bean with all her might into the sea.  Though she couldn’t follow it against the night sky it was immediately clear where it had landed.  A glowing, green vortex had opened in the sea before them.  The sounds of churning water and rushing air drowned out everything else.  She only hoped Turner could steer true and that Grace and Roland were holding onto something.

 

The Jewel sailed on as Emma wrapped a rope around her forearm and hand as best she could with the compass in the other.  The portal swirled violently as the Jewel approached.  Her last thought as the prow of the ship began to tip forward was of Killian’s smile.

 

Of all the ways she had travelled from place to place Emma was absolutely certain that the portal was the worst of them all.  Her senses were filled with the green malstrom they’d fallen into.  She felt simultaneously squashed to the deck by some invisible hand and as though the only thing anchoring her down was the rope about her arm.  With a mighty upheaval the prow of the Jewel crested a final emerald tinged wave, landing roughly in still waters like a child throwing a twig into a puddle.

 

“I never want to do that again,” Roland groaned, the others echoing his sentiments.

 

Emma waited until her footing was steady before she untethered herself.  She found it hard to breathe, not because of their crossing but because of something heavy and metallic saturating the air.  As she sucked in labored breaths she found her gaze drawn to an unnatural glow lighting the night sky off the port side.  Pulling out her spyglass she focused on a stretch of coastline that was bathed in an odd orange light.

 

It was clear it was a township of some kind.  The structures were constructed in a way she had never seen before in metal, wood, and even brickwork alike.  The source of the orange-ish glow seemed to come from lamps that lined the oddly pitch black roadways as far as she could see but she could not detect any flickering or smoke that indicated candles or lamp oil.  Even the ships bobbing in the harbor were the likes of which she’d never seen.  They were small, dingy things and though they had no sails they were still too large and also somehow too small to use rowers to get them out to sea.

 

“Lower the anchor,” she ordered as she lowered her spyglass.  They were a good distance out in the harbor but she didn’t like the idea that the Jewel was now the finest ship in the water, “I’m going to cloak her.  Gather your weapons and we’ll row to shore once I’m finished.”

 

Placing her hands on the rail she frowned slightly at the feel of the wood under her hands.  When she tried to place the cloaking spell her frown deepened.  She felt nothing, not from the ship and not from wherever her magic coalesced.  Closing her eyes she concentrated harder, flexing her fingers in time with the beat of her heart but still nothing came.  Looking down at her hands she saw her knuckles were white from her grip and not the glow of magic.

 

“It’s gone,” she whispered.

 

No one was around to hear her and she was about to say it louder when the hatch in the deck popped open.  Immediately they all unsheathed their swords, the sound of rasping metal ringing loudly out into the night.  Instead of an enemy a sheepish Marty poked his head out from below, his hair standing on end with a cut on his forehead he was dabbing at with a strip of cloth.

 

“Did we make it?”

 

“Scarlet you were to remain on the Brooke!”

 

“Dammit, Marty, your mum is going to kill me.”

 

Emma stared incredulously at the men spread across the deck.  Even Grace appeared more annoyed at Marty’s sudden appearance than shocked at his surname.

 

“Scarlet?” She asked weakly. “As in Will Scarlet?”

 

“Yeah, Da and Mum like to keep it a secret but what’s the harm when we’re in another realm?  I didn’t see the point in staying behind with the others when I can help.  Like I did with the beans!”

 

Marty pleaded with wide eyes and it only made him look younger to Emma.  She pushed aside her annoyance at herself for not paying closer attention to her crew, especially since she could clearly see Will and Belle’s blood influencing the look of the boy in front of her.  Turner and Roland avoided her gaze seemingly aware they should have said something to her earlier.

 

“We’ll deal with your inability to follow a direct order later, Scarlet-” she raised her brow at Marty as he flushed dully.  She focused on the others, “We have bigger problems.”

 

“What?” Grace asked immediately scanning the waters around them for trouble.

 

“My magic isn’t working.  I can’t cloak the Jewel which means it might not be long before Zelena finds out we’re here.  I don’t even know if the portal brought us to the right place,” she said disheartedly.

 

“We have to trust that the compass did as it was purported to do,” Turner spoke up after a moment. “As for not being able to cloak the ship the solution is as simple as sailing out of sight of the docks and anchoring there.  We’ll have to row ourselves in at a different point but even that inconvenience will work to our advantage.”

 

“If you can’t use your magic then perhaps Zelena can’t either,” Roland mused.

 

“I don’t want to find out the painful way,” Emma said dryly.  She looked back towards the shore as she came to her decision, “Turner, you and Scarlet will sail north and anchor the Jewel where she’ll best be hidden.  Roland, Grace and I will row ourselves in now and scout out what this realm holds in store for us.  Once we get a good idea of where we are and what we’ll face we’ll return to the Jewel.”

 

“But-”

 

“Aye, aye Captain,” Turner said, cutting Marty off with a glare.

 

They wasted no time launching the small rowboat.  Emma let Roland row as she watched a sullen Marty and an exasperated Turner begin to sail the Jewel away from the harbor.  It wasn’t long before the Jewel turned north and they were bumping up against a piling.

 

The metallic tang in the air was stronger onshore.  There was a constant low humming that she couldn’t find the source to but seemed to come from the strange lamps that were only more confounding up close.  Everything she looked at was strange and unfamiliar but somehow not at all.  She was about to inspect one of the lanterns at the edge of the dock more closely when she heard the far off sound of scuffling feet on wooden planks.

 

Emma turned towards the shore and found herself staring at a tall, lean figure that was backlit by the lights behind him.  She squinted, feeling as though she was in one of her dreams.  The ones where Killian was by her side.

 

“Killian,” she breathed, hardly aware that her feet were already leading her towards what she was sure was a man standing there.

 

“Emma!  No!”

 

She ignored Roland’s panicked whisper.  The painful pull as she wrenched her arm out of Grace’s grasp was enough to convince her that she wasn’t dreaming.  The man didn’t move, clearly caught off guard by three people being in a place he had probably thought abandoned so late at night.  Emma was already halfway up the dock when the man’s features became clear.

 

“Killian!”

 

Emma ran the rest of the way up the dock, throwing herself into his arms.  He didn’t float away in a wisp of smoke when she touched him, his arms were strong around her back as he stumbled to keep their balance.  She buried her nose in the curve of his neck and breathed deeply, filling her senses with him.

 

“I found you. I found you.  I never gave up.  I knew, I always knew.”

 

She knew she was rambling but she didn’t care.  Until she realized that he wasn’t truly hugging her back, he wasn’t murmuring in her ear about how much he missed her, in fact he wasn’t responding in any way at all.

 

Warily she pulled back.  Killian looked much like she had the last time she’d seen him, telling her to save herself to save them all, except there was no joy at reuniting with her in his eyes.  There was only bemusement and confusion in the blue depths.

 

“Killian?”

 

Killian’s brow furrowed.  He tilted his head, looking at her as though he’d never seen her before.

 

“Er, who?”


	9. Strangers in a Strange Land

Once, when Emma was six or perhaps seven, she had been thrown from her pony when he had been spooked by a rabbit darting out in front of him.  The pony hadn’t been overlarge but Emma had been tossed off his back from a higher point than she’d ever fallen from before.  She vividly remembered the surprise of flying through the air and the shock of all the air being forced from her lungs when she had landed flat on her back on the unforgiving ground.  Worst of all were the few terrible seconds where she hadn’t been able to move a single muscle and she had truly believed she had died.

 

Every heart stopping sensation returned to her as Killian stared at her without a single spark of recognition in his eyes.

 

“Lass?”

 

Emma realized she was still in his arms, clinging to him desperately.  She quickly stepped back but all rational thought had left her.  Killian looked the same, sounded the same, his arms had felt the same wrapped around her but somehow it wasn’t him at all.  He was watching her with a bemused smile and seemed about to ask her a more pressing question when she felt a warm hand on her elbow, pulling her further away from him.

 

“Apologies.  We’ve had a bit o’ drink tonight and me cousin though yous was someone else.”

 

Roland squeezed her arm gently, she supposed to comfort her and to indicate she should go along with whatever ruse he had planned.  He was swaying almost imperceptibly on his feet and Emma caught a whiff of rum coming off him.  The harsh smell of the alcohol broke through her stupor and she began to tremble.  Roland’s grip tightened as he stepped slightly in front of her.

 

“No harm, no foul, mate,” Killian grinned up at Roland.  There was a sharpness to it Emma had never seen before as his gaze slid back to her, “Whoever he is he’s quite the fool for letting such a beautiful woman go.  I can assure you if your, er, cousin was mine the only reason she’d have to drink would be to rehydrate herself for another round.”

 

Grace gasped from behind them and Roland’s hand flexed painfully around her arm.  The lewd comment coming from Killian, who hadn’t always had a proper tongue but never one so vulgar, was as shocking as getting doused in a bucket of ice cold seawater and just as effective at getting Emma’s thoughts moving again.

 

“As though I’d stoop so low as to sleep with a man who skulks around a harbor in the dead of night and tries to seduce a woman who’d mistaken him for another,” she retorted, stepping back in front of Roland and settling her hands on her hips.

 

“Oh, you have fire, lass,” Killian whistled, rocking back on his heels, his eyes glittering.  He gave her a short bow, “Names Kieran.”

 

“I didn’t ask for it,” Emma said steadily, despite her heart beating furiously in her chest.

 

“And yet you have it anyway.  I suppose it’s too much to hope you’ll give me yours in return?  I have a feeling it just rolls off the tongue-” Killian’s own tongue darted out from between his lips to touch the corner of his mouth before he bit his lip and winked at her.

 

“That’ll be enough of that,  _ mate _ .”

 

Roland stepped up beside her again, hostility radiating off him, all pretenses dropped.  Emma had never seen him upset, let alone angry, and she had to fight against the urge to put herself in between the two men with Killian safely at her back.  Killian was the unknown element on the dock and she was quickly becoming aware of exactly what she was up against.  Zelena’s dark curse seemed to not have only stolen Killian away from her, it had stolen away the essence of who he was and replaced it with something else.  Something Emma wasn’t sure she had the strength to fight against.

 

“No need to get your panties in a twist I’m just having a bit of fun.”

 

Killian held his hands up in surrender and the sight made Emma gasp involuntarily.  Much like in her dreams, the ones she’d had to convince herself for hours afterward weren’t real, his left hand had been replaced by a shiny hook.  Although, it was unlike any hook she’d seen before, almost pincer-like in its appearance.  At the sound of her surprise a dark look shadowed Killian’s face and he dropped his arms with a scowl.

 

“Appears the fun’s been cancelled for the evening,” Grace’s steely voice floated across the dock causing all three of them to focus on her. “We’ll be on our way and you can be on yours.”

 

“Ah, but I find myself intrigued as to why the three of you were down here at all,” Killian’s taunting voice had Emma looking back at him.  He tilted his head towards them, eyes slowly taking them all in, “It’s far too late for a pleasure cruise and despite the whiff of rum I’d bet none of you lot have let a drop pass your lips at all this night.  Not to mention you’re all wearing clothes far more suited for a voyage with Jack Sparrow than a dockside rendezvous in rural Maine.”

 

“I could wonder the same about you,” Emma said, tilting her own head to the side measuring him up.  She didn’t know how much of her Killian had been changed, how much of him was left inside the man standing before her, but she was willing to push a few buttons to find out, “The smell of alcohol on you is pervasive, like you dip yourself in a cask of it before going anywhere but over that I smell mischief.  You aren’t down here for a casual stroll yourself and judging by the look of the ships bobbing in their slips behind us and the set of tools not so hidden in your coat pocket I’d guess you’re the one who was thinking about taking a pleasure cruise.  What you were looking for was a distraction from whatever it is you need distracting from and instead of stealing a ship you’ve decided we’re far more interesting.  Am I right?”

 

He gaped at her in wonder before shaking his head.  A smile slowly unfurled as he stepped closer to her, leaning into her space, “Well, you’ve got fire and a brain to boot.  You seem to have gained quite the measure of me in our short acquaintance and yet somehow still remain shrouded in mystery yourself.  A name lass and I’ll see fit to forget to mention our strange meeting to the sheriff of the lovely town you find yourself in.”

 

“If that was a legitimate threat I might consider it,” she smirked and hoped it didn’t tremble. “You can’t tell your sheriff about us without telling them why you were down here in the first place.  We’ll be going now.”

 

It took all of her remaining strength to force her feet to move forward and push past Killian.  She refused to look back, even as she heard him chuckling behind her and the strange lanterns along the docks seemed to flicker in her wake.  He couldn’t be allowed to see how much talking to him had broken her and she was grateful that Roland was right behind her, effectively shielding her from Killian’s view.

 

“I look forward to our next tet-a-tet, lass!” Killian’s voice called out after her, amplified as it echoed across the water. “I hope it will be as pleasurable as this one has been!”

 

Roland’s hand settled on her shoulder and continued to guide her forward.  She was grateful for it because the tears in her eyes made it nearly impossible for her to see where she was going.  Focusing on the sound of their footsteps and the warmth of Roland’s hand she walked, keeping the sea to her right.  For a good while they traveled along the unforgiving pathway leading away from the town but once it diverted back inland Emma led them into the woods lining the shore.  The crunching of twigs and soft loam beneath her boots grounded her as her tears dried on her cheeks.

 

“Do you think it was the curse?”

 

Grace’s gentle question came at the point when the orange glow of lights from the town became indiscernible through the trees.  Emma slowed to a stop at a fallen log and sat down heavily upon it.  Roland and Grace sat on either side of her, patiently waiting for her answer.

 

“I’m sure of it,” she croaked out.  Clearing her throat she dug one heel into the dirt at her feet, “Killian would have never talked to me that way.  Even when he was pretending to be someone else when I first met him he was flirtatious but not like that.  The curse changed him, made him forget who he is.  It made him forget me.”

 

Roland’s arm draped over her shoulder and pulled her into his side.  She had no more tears to cry.  All that she felt was left of her was an exhausted husk that was too close to admitting defeat.

 

“But it’s still a curse.  It can be broken,” Grace said emphatically, grabbing onto Emma’s hand almost desperately.

 

“With True Love’s kiss!” Roland jumped up and began pacing excitedly, “We can’t go back now, he’s probably already gone.  We’ll have to scout the town and wait for him to be alone again.  Maybe if we go-”

 

“It won’t work,” Emma said dully, slipping her hand out of Grace’s grasp.

 

“What?” Roland stumbled to a halt and gaped at her, “Of course it will!  True Love’s kiss breaks any curse.”

 

“Not if one can’t remember the other,” she said desolately.  Despite feeling as though she had cried all the moisture out of her body the tears gathered in her eyes once more, “How can you share True Love with someone if you can’t remember ever knowing them?”

 

“Then we make him remember,” Roland said vehemently. “Or- or we find your father or mine and break it that way.”

 

“We don’t even know if Killian is the only one who lost his memory or what else this fucking curse has done to them,” Emma fired back, through with trying to come up with yet another plan for the ones that had gone awry. “I don’t have my magic, we’re in a realm we know nothing about, we don’t know if we’ll have anyone on our side or if it’s just the four of us against Zelena.  Who, by the way, has every advantage over us.  I don’t- I can’t handle another blow.”

 

The fight drained out of Roland and he slumped back down onto the log with an air of defeat.  Emma felt a moment of guilt for snapping at him and effectively stomping on his hopes but they all had to face the reality of their situation.  They had been terribly naive in their preparations and were facing the consequences of believing they had been equipped to handle the unknown.

 

“Okay, it’s okay,” Grace said in a soothing voice.  She began to gently rub Emma’s back in a way that reminded her of Snow, “We’ve all been awake since dawn at least and with the fight with those pirates and the search for the bean we’ve pushed ourselves to our limits.  We just need a few hours of sleep and I bet we’ll find things won’t look so bleak come morning.”

 

“Grace-”

 

“We’ll make camp here tonight,” Grace continued, talking over her, “Tomorrow we’ll scout out the town as best we can without drawing attention to ourselves.  Killian most likely won’t be telling anyone of authority he saw us, you might be right about that Emma.  That should at least keep Zelena from immediately discovering we’re here.  Then we’ll return to the Jewel at dusk and discuss with Turner and Marty how to proceed.”

 

Emma nodded tiredly.  Grace gently patted her shoulder and stood from the log, dragging Roland with her.  She watched as they began to gather wood and clear a spot for a fire.  In what seemed like the span of a single blink a small fire was burning cheerily in front of her and Grace was gently coaxing her to lay down in the circle of its warmth.  Even with the unforgiving ground and dark thoughts swirling in her head she was asleep within moments of closing her eyes.

 

The next morning was grey and gloomy.  She woke to the low murmurs of Grace and Roland and the smell of roasting meat.  The fire was burning as high as it had been when she had fallen asleep with the added sight of a rabbit roasting on a spit over it.  Sitting up she listened to Roland as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

 

“-never saw me and if Killian truly doesn’t talk then no one will be suspicious.  She’ll still have no idea we’re here until it’s too late.”

 

“Zelena knows who you are,” Emma said gruffly, her throat slightly raw from the crying she had done the night before and unhelped by sleeping outdoors.  She took a quick drink from the flask Roland handed her, “Even if she didn’t use a mirror to spy on me after we met Thompson would have been made to tell her about the Merry Men camp and everyone in it.  Taking your father but not you was probably her way of punishing you for being so eager to help us right off.  Grace and Marty are the only ones Zelena doesn’t know about.”

 

“Then maybe we should be the ones to scout out the town,” Grace said with a frown.

 

“No-” she shook her head as she shuffled as close to the fire as she could without getting singed, “Marty is young and inexperienced, no matter how much he’d argue otherwise.  I’m not going to send you out there without someone to back you up and I’m also not going to stay away just because Zelena might recognize me.  We’ll play it safe at first to get an idea of what we’re dealing with but I’m not going to hide in the shadows forever.”

 

Grace and Roland beamed at her.  She felt steadier and more resolute than she had the night before.  The light of day and a night’s rest had greatly improved her outlook, even if she shied away from thinking about her interaction with Killian completely.

 

They stayed at their makeshift camp only until the fire burned down to embers and they could snuff it out easily.  The clouds above were a steely grey and Emma could smell a storm edging its way towards them as they buried the bones from their meal and removed any signs that they had been there.  Roland was the one to lead them back towards the town due to him being the most familiar with travelling through a forest and having actually paid attention to where Emma had blindly taken them the night before in her distress.

 

Once they were within sight of the solid, dark roadways they stayed within the shadows of the trees as Emma pulled out her spyglass to observe the town spread out below them.  From what she could see it was moderate in size with a good amount of people milling about, either walking from place to place or in strange carriages that moved without the assistance of horses.  She also saw no signs of distress or displacement from the inhabitants which gave her more reason to believe that not only Killian’s memories had been tampered with.

 

As they moved on Emma took the lead.  They maintained their distance from the road but kept it in sight as they moved along the perimeter of the town.  All too soon it veered off in two separate directions one leading deeper into the woods and the other back towards the heart of the town.  Loathe as she was to leave the safety of the trees she knew she couldn’t hide in them forever, not if she wanted to find the answers she needed.

 

“We need to stash our weapons here,” Emma murmured grimly, scanning the forest for a suitable hiding place.

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea-” Roland scowled, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “What if we need to defend ourselves?”

 

“Then we’re not doing a very good job of laying low,” she huffed. “Look, there’s never been a time that I walked into a room where I wasn’t immediately suspicious of a sword or bow on a person.  I’m almost certain we’re going to stick out in people’s minds because we’re strangers that have come to this small town but we’ll draw even more attention if we’re armed.  You can keep the knife in your boot but the cutlass has to go.”

 

Roland looked at her in shock as his right foot kicked out reflexively.  She grinned, a small but genuine smile, and began removing her own sword as she walked towards a somewhat hollowed out tree that could serve their purpose.  Grace’s short sword and Roland’s cutlass joined hers in quick order and using strips of bark and fallen branches from other trees they were able to hide them relatively well.

 

Despite feeling on edge and exposed Emma couldn’t help feeling fascinated by the new realm they had found themselves in.  The dark substance on the roadways seemed to be a type of pitch that was curiously untacky under her boot and as hard as the cobblestones back in the courtyard of her parent’s castle.  The raised pathway that ran alongside it was seemingly made of stone slabs the like of which she’d never seen before but it was clearly meant as a footpath only as the strange carriages were too wide to travel easily upon it.  They spent a little time inspecting the carriages, which were forged of metal and glass, but continued on when they couldn’t figure out what made them move.

 

What surprised her most wasn’t the fantastical oddities around her but the general air of desolation that pervaded throughout the town.  The roadway was pocked with divots and cracks, many of the carriages had their wheels missing and were placed upon stone blocks, and more than once they passed a stranger that took just as much interest in them as they did in their appearance, which was to say none at all.  The cottages they passed seemed almost uniform in build with only slight alterations in their facade and yet there was something more that united them aside from their repetitious build.

 

It was the warped wood of the walls, the rusting metal fixtures and decorations, the unkempt and weed choked gardens enclosed more often than not by sagging or incomplete fencing that spoke to Emma of the conditions the people lived in under the curse.  In her travels it had never escaped her notice that even the poorest villager would take pains to make their humble dwellings feel as though it was a home to be proud of.  Unless, of course, they were in a kingdom that neglected or even terrorized their subjects.  She hadn’t seen much of Misthaven under Zelena’s rule before the curse but she had heard enough from others to know that it could have been a mirror for the town she found herself in.

 

The closer they traveled to what appeared to be the main thoroughfare of the town the more well maintained the buildings and gardens became.  Emma didn’t have much of a chance to observe her surroundings with much scrutiny due to the increase of people walking about.  They stealthily ducked into an alleyway once they came across one that seemed to head into the heart of the town.  Once they reached the opposite end she quietly told Grace and Roland to remain in the shadows so they could watch the goings on before them.

 

Emma watched silently as the movement past the mouth of the alley steadily increased.  The wonder at watching the horseless carriages speed by wore off quickly as the odor of the mechanism that enabled them to travel permeated the air.  In contrast her fascination with the clothing of the realm increased the more of it she saw as people strolled by.  She had never seen such riotous colors outside of tropical isles or exotic lands and never had she seen the number of women in trousers far outnumber the ones in skirts or dresses, especially ones that had been tailored to such scandalously short lengths that the only purpose seemed to be to show off the hose they wore underneath.  Even with the cool autumn morning the varieties in clothing that both the men and women wore astounded her.

 

“We’re going to have to find new togs if we want to blend in,” Roland commented as a man walked by wearing a dark grey knit cap that slouched off the crown of his head, a deep maroon woolen overcoat, and dark blue trousers that were so tight they appeared to be a second skin. “No wonder Killian made that comment about our appearance last night.”

 

“We don’t even know if the shops in this realm take our gold coins let alone if the tailor has anything already made that will fit each of us,” Emma murmured as she watched a chattering trio of women in quilted coats and brightly colored, patterned trousers speed past. “I think I prefer my own clothing, even if I somehow still stand out because of them.”

 

“Maybe we can at least find some of those coats to at least conceal our own clothes,” Grace said thoughtfully, plucking at the hem of her waistcoat. “We don’t know how long we’ll be in this realm or how harsh their winter will be.”

 

Grace’s casual observation jolted her back to why they were skulking in the alley in the first place.  She had almost forgotten in her wonder at the strangeness around her that they had no idea how to proceed with their original plan.  Before she could even gather herself enough to make a response a flash of bright blue caught her eye and she turned just in time to see an achingly familiar profile disappear from the view of the alley.

 

“Daddy.”

 

Emma bolted out of the alleyway but the man who had caught her eye was already down the roadway, climbing into a larger carriage with an open back that looked similar to a hay wagon.  She stood frozen on the walkway as she waited with a pounding heart for him to glance back so she could confirm that it actually was her father.  Her wish was granted after his carriage roared dully and he peeked over his shoulder for the shortest of moments.  The last time she had seen David it had been through a mirror and after more than eleven years of separation but there was no mistaking the man in the carriage for anyone else.

 

The excitement that had flared briefly in her chest at seeing her father was snuffed out when she realized the carriage was quickly moving away from her.  She looked frantically back at the mouth of the alley where Grace and Roland were both shaking their heads at her with twin looks of panic before quickly looking back to where her father’s carriage was turning down another roadway and out of her sight.  Without a second thought she gave chase, ignoring the strangled shout of Roland behind her and the shocked looks of the people on the walkway in front of her.  As she darted across the road she caused several of the carriages to halt to a stop with loud blaring noises seemingly coming from within their depths but she paid them no mind as she made the turn down the roadway she’d seen her father take.

 

To Emma’s dismay the carriages moved much faster than she anticipated.  David was already a fair distance ahead of her.  There were less people walking along the road she’d found herself on but that only made her mad dash all the more conspicuous as they merely stood in her way, gaping at her.  She dodged around them as efficiently as she could, cursing as she watched the carriage David was in turn once more with a brief flaring of red at its back.

 

By the time she turned down the road she believed David had turned down there was no sign of him or the carriage.  She bit down a curse and the urge to sob as she slowed her pace to a light jog and looked through the windows of shops and down the other roadways that branched off in a dismaying number of possibilities.  After passing by several such roadways she finally turned down one based merely on the discovery that no one else was on it and she wanted a moment or two to collect herself before Grace and Roland found her.  She was far from ready to face them and their lectures on her impulsiveness.  It was bad enough she was already chastising herself about it as she walked aimlessly.

 

The roadway she found herself on was unlike any of the others she’d seen that morning.  On the side she was walking on the buildings were much like the shops she’d passed while she’d chased David, though a bit larger and without any wares on display in the windows.  Directly across from her was a large, white building set back from the road with an expanse of lush green, short cut grasses and hedges before it.  Her steps slowed to a stop as she contemplated what purpose the building served as the sign out front declaring it as ‘City Hall’ made only a small amount of sense to her.

 

The vague ideas and musings over the uses were interrupted when a small, dark green carriage sped down the road at an incredible speed before jolting to a screeching halt near the front doors of the hall.  Emma’s thoughts stopped altogether when a woman emerged from the interior of the carriage.  Her skin was no longer green and the elaborate gown Emma had last seen her in was replaced by something sleeker and somehow more form fitting but there was no mistaking the fiery red hair or screeching voice for anyone but Zelena.

 

“I don’t give a bloody fuck how it’s done.  I want that rat trap of a cabin demolished by the end of the week.  Is that understood?”

 

Emma knelt down slowly so as not to draw attention to herself as she went for the blade in her boot.  She would have preferred her sword or even her magic but she knew her short dagger could be just as effective a weapon.  Straightening back up she concealed the dagger between her body and her arm as she watched Zelena rant at some unseen person.  With a deep breath she stepped forward, whether to force the witch to answer questions or to kill her Emma wasn’t sure, when a rough hand clamped over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her torso, pinning down her arms, and pulled her backwards.

 

Her paralysis only lasted a few seconds before she began to struggle.  The person who grabbed her grunted in pain as her bootheels connected with their shins but it only caused their grip to tighten as they drug her further down what she vaguely noted was another alley.  She continued to kick out and back at her attacker, trying to set them off balance and simultaneously cause them enough pain that they’d inevitably release her.

 

“Bloody hell, lass, I’m trying to keep you from doing something you’ll regret.”

 

Emma stiffened in shock at the winded and pained voice panting in her ear.  Her eyes darted down and she could just make out the odd hook at the end of the arm that was keeping hers pinned down.  Killian squeezed her middle sharply, causing the air in her lungs to huff out through her nose.  In retaliation she nipped none too gently at his hand and was pleased by his quiet yelp.  When he did nothing more to strike back at her or give any sign he would release her she hesitantly relaxed in his arms but remained cautious.  She still had no real idea of how much the curse had changed him.

 

“If I let you go are you going to stab me with that wicked looking knife of yours?” He growled, still breathing harshly.

 

She shook her head as best she could under his hand.

 

“Excellent.  I don’t fancy having to spend any more time in hospital than I already have-” Killian dropped his hand from her mouth and tapped her arm gently with his hook before stepping back from her.

 

Needing a moment to steel herself to confront him again so soon after the disaster of the night before she focused on the building across the road.  To her dismay, and slight relief, Zelena was nowhere to be seen and had apparently taken no notice of their struggling.  She felt Killian step up beside her but she wasn’t ready to look at him, let alone talk to him, and she was scared she never would be.

 

“Our illustrious mayor is probably already safely ensconced in her office,” Killian said conversationally, as though he hadn’t prevented her from attacking Zelena only moments before. “Her security in there is a bunch of brainless oafs but they’re surprisingly good at their jobs.”

 

Emma fought to keep an impassive look on her face as memories of Killian joking with her in the same way assaulted her.  He was going in and out of her peripheral vision, as though he was rocking back and forth on his heels, trying to force her to pay attention to him.  Instead she spun away from him and began pacing the length of the alley to try and get her thoughts in order, keeping her eyes firmly on her boots.  She hadn’t anticipated seeing Killian, her father, and Zelena in such a quick succession, let alone try to decide which one would be her best chance at breaking the curse.

 

“Are you some sort of reenactor?”

 

His absurd question caused her to pause and finally look at him directly.  He was sitting atop a stack of empty crates, his blue eyes watching her carefully.  The seemingly single pieced uniform made of a dark blue heavy material he was wearing was just as odd as the other clothing she’d seen in the realm, yet despite its way of giving no shape to his form it somehow fitted him perfectly.  On his chest was a small patch that read ‘Jones’ and with a pang she remembered the first time he’d used that name with her back at Granny’s tavern in Senlikli.

 

“You’re clearly not a hit woman,” he said with a tilt of his head as he regarded her. “You’ve the stealth of a freight train and are oblivious of your surroundings if I was able to sneak up on you without actually trying.  You’re far too beautiful to be one of those nutters that gets off on dressing up and going to one of those nerd convention things.  I’m going to stick with reenactor, seeing as Founder’s Day is in a few weeks and Ruby does enjoy torturing her ex and his boss in interesting ways.”

 

Emma didn’t even try to make sense out of what Killian had said.  She vaguely wondered if the Ruby he mentioned was Red but couldn’t muster the courage to talk to him in any capacity.  Instead she went to move past him back out on the roadway without saying a word.  His eyes flashed and he stood quickly to block her way.

 

“Now, now.  You can’t possibly believe I’d let you escape without some sort of explanation, lass.  You and your friends show up in the dead of night in a mere rowboat where you throw yourself at me, crying, before clamming up faster than a shot and disappearing into the darkness.  Then, when I have the great fortune of seeing you again after wondering about you all night you’re tearing through the streets and preparing to attack the mayor in some manner,” Killian said it without menace or suspicion but with something akin to wonder.  He leaned close to her, his eyes darting between her own, “Just who are you?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She quipped back in spite of herself.

 

“Perhaps I would,” Killian said softly, swaying towards her.  Then he seemed to catch himself, shoving his hand and hook into the pockets of his clothes, adjusting his stance so he was leading with his hips, “I’d be more than willing to learn all sorts of things about you, preferably in the bedroom.  Just say the word, lass.”

 

She was spared from having to come up with a response when she heard the pounding of feet and Roland’s relieved call from behind her.

 

“Emma!”

 

“Emma is it?” Killian’s eyes glittered. “Lovely name for a gorgeous lass.  It’s a pity I couldn’t get it to fall from your own luscious lips.”

 

“If I had it my way you’d still be waiting,” she grit out even as it pained her to be so callous towards him.

 

“Of that I’m well aware-” he licked his lips and winked, “Emma.”

 

With a roll of her eyes she turned her back on him.  Roland was standing at the other end of the alley, silhouetted by the midmorning sun.  Emma saw the moment he realized exactly who it was that was with her, he straightened to his full height as his hand went for the cutlass that was no longer at his hip.  She decided to ease the tension as quickly as possible and walked towards Roland without looking back.  The look on his face was thunderous, leaving her wondering if it wasn’t only Killian’s presence that had him upset.

 

“I look forward to our next run-in, lass!  Each one has been-” Killian paused and she could picture him slowly licking his bottom lip, “-illuminating.”

 

“Let’s go,” Emma murmured as she drew close to Roland, tucking her dagger back in her boot.  He was glaring over her head and only looked at her when she tugged at his elbow as she straightened, “Where’s Grace?”

 

“Back where we came into town-” his eyes darted back down the alley and from his deepening frown she knew Killian was still there. “Did he do anything to you?”

 

“No, nothing happened,” she reassured him quickly.

 

Unable to help herself Emma looked back to see that Killian hadn’t moved.  He was watching them with a scowl that not even the shadows of the alleyway could mask.  She wondered at his change in demeanor from flirtatious to annoyed when it hit her that she had seen him look that way before.  It had been back when they had been barely civil with one another and she’d catch him looking at her with a similar scowl when she was with Pinocchio.  It wasn’t until Red laughingly teased her about it that she realized he was jealous.  Seeing the same expression on his face even with no memory of her sparked a small glimmer of hope in her chest.  She turned back to Roland before Killian could catch the grin threatening to break out across her face.

 

“Emma?” Roland asked, seemingly taken aback by her fight against the smile.

 

“Not now,” she whispered with a joyous tremor to her voice.

 

Tugging on his arm again she prodded him into walking away from the alley.  She was only slightly disappointed when Killian didn’t call out after her again.

 

“Was it him?  Your father?” Roland asked tersely once they were well away from the alley.

 

“It was,” Emma answered quietly, her elation fading as she remembered the reasons she had found herself with Killian in the first place. “I also saw Zelena.”

 

“What?!” He yelped as he stopped dead in the middle of the walkway, grabbing her arm to turn her to face him. “Is seeing her all that you did?”

 

“Keep walking,” she hissed, glad there were only one or two people that could possibly hear them but others were starting to take notice.  She blew out a frustrated breath when he stood his ground, “Killian stopped me from doing anything more than that.  Keep walking.”

 

Roland started forward again but didn’t say a word.  As they moved along the roads he constantly checked over his shoulders and looked up and down the crossroads twice before continuing on.  The tension radiating off him caused Emma to start paying more attention to the goings on around her even though she was sure it was her revelation about Zelena that had him both more alert and determined to ignore her.  She knew better than to try to explain herself until they were in the cover the woods where the risk of any yelling that would occur from being overheard was minimal.

 

There were far less people walking around the roads than there had been before.  Emma wondered if it had to do with the later hour of if there was some decree that required the townsfolk to be indoors by midmorning.  Back in even the smallest villages of their realm there had been constant movement down the roads or between various shops and taverns.  The lack of people made it easier to spot someone following them but it also meant the two of them stuck out even more than they had before.  Emma quickened her pace and Roland easily matched her strides as they wend their way back to the forest.

 

Grace was waiting for them at the treeline.  When she caught sight of them she gave them a tight smile but remained in the shadows of the trees.  She let Roland pass without comment when they reached her but pulled Emma into a brief, squeezing hug.  It reminded her of how Roland had been when he had found her with Killian, upset and concerned for something more than just her disappearance.  Whatever had happened to them after she had run off had clearly affected them both.

 

As they rearmed themselves with their weapons Emma addressed Grace, hoping she’d be more forthcoming and less hostile than Roland.

 

“What happened after I left?”

 

“After you abandoned us you mean?” Roland snapped angrily, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You were the one going on about not drawing attention, getting a lay of the land.  Then you go and dash through countless people after a man who doesn’t even remember you, risked being seen by the one person who would gladly kill you if they do remember, and ended up alone with the one that can’t decide whether to fuck with you or just fuck you.  Not exactly the way to go about breaking a curse is it, Savior?”

 

Emma saw red, her pulse pounding in her head, blood coursing hotly through her veins.  She had her sword half out of her scabbard before Grace was grabbing onto her wrist to stop her and stepping between them.

 

“Enough!  Roland that was out of line!” Grace scolded him before turning to Emma with no less fire in her eyes. “He was out of line but he was also right.  You risked too much running after your father and if I understand right seeing Zelena and then Killian as well?  I know this is entire situation is unprecedented but what were you thinking Emma?  We cannot afford to make any mistakes!”

 

Slamming her sword back in place she shook off Grace’s hand, “Was I supposed to just let my father go without even trying to find out if he remembers me?”

 

“I had to!” Roland roared, “Looked him straight in the eye and kept going.  I have no problem remembering what’s at stake here.”

 

She stood dumbfounded as Roland stalked off into the woods, seemingly back the way they had come.  Grace sighed deeply and giving her a troubled look turned to follow.  Emma went along quietly, unable to form any words that would seem sufficient.

 

“You ran past him when you went after your father,” Grace murmured quietly, her voice almost lost in the sound of twigs snapping under their boots. “Luckily for us Robin was busy with a man Roland called Little John and paid little attention to you or us as I made excuses for your behavior.  He’s a constable of some kind, Robin is.  I think that was the bigger shock for Roland.”

 

“I- I’m sorry.”

 

Emma wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for running off or for forcing Roland to meet his father in such a way.  It didn’t much matter with Roland nearly out of sight ahead of them forging a new path with his heavy tread.  Grace seemed dissatisfied with her apology, frowning as she looked towards what they could see of Roland’s wide back.

 

“After we lost sight of you we split up.  Roland being the better tracker went after you and I kept a lookout as I made my way back to the weapons.  We both knew that if he didn’t find you you’d make your way back there.  Either that or you were taken by someone and we had an even bigger problem on our hands,” Grace said pointedly, her eyes unforgiving as they focused back on Emma.

 

“If it had been your kids would you have done nothing at all?” Emma retorted, nettled into defensiveness.

 

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Grace answered unabashedly, pivoting to a stop in front of her. “I would have followed them as far as I could have but kept my head about me as I did.  I would have made a plan with the other people I’m stuck in this confusing realm with.  I would have continued to believe that even if they couldn’t recognize me that they would in time.  We need to rely on each other in this fight and we can’t do that if we’re divided.  You are the Savior, Emma, you will break this curse but only if you accept your destiny.  It’s that or we’ve come here for nothing.”

 

Grace began to walk after Roland again and Emma was left fighting against the slight tremor in her hands.

 

It took several minutes for Emma to gather herself enough to continue down the path Roland had created.  By the time she caught up to them she wasn’t entirely sure if they were closer to the town or to where Turner and Marty might have hidden the Jewel.  In trying to determine where they were she didn’t notice until she had almost walked straight into them that Roland and Grace had come to a dead stop in front of her.  She was about to ask why when she noticed they were both gripping the hilt of their weapons tightly.

 

Taking similar precaution Emma unsheathed her own sword before stepping around Roland.  She was shocked to see a woman standing there and when she realized who it was her grip faltered.

 

The former Evil Queen was a far cry from the regal and haughty portrait Emma had found once in one of the many rooms they had only used for storage when she was little.  Regina also looked only marginally better than she had when Emma had first seen her as a prisoner in a tower of her own palace.  Standing in front of her was a woman who had been defeated in every way and her appearance showed it.  Her hair was unkempt and matted, her clothes a mismatch of ill-fitting and dirty rags, and although she looked as though she was eating better than when she was a prisoner her cheeks were still hollow and her skin sallow.

 

She was standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at Roland and Grace.  When she noticed Emma her dark eyes widened marginally in surprise before a wide smile unfurled.  Emma knew better than to believe it was from happiness at seeing her before realizing with a shock that somehow Regina recognized her.

 

“It’s about damn time you got here,” Regina sneered.

 

“You know me,” Emma said as more of a statement than a question, ignoring the uneasy shuffling of her companions.

 

“Of course I do,” Regina spat back with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Precious Princess Emma finally come to do what she was fated to do.  Tell me, was your twenty-eighth birthday one worth remembering?”

 

“What do you know about this curse?” Emma asked ignoring Regina’s dig. “How do we break it?”

 

“Oh, no no no.  You’ve kept me waiting long enough.  You owe me a heart, Savior, and I intend to collect.”

 

Regina moved quicker than Emma thought her capable as she pulled a small blade from the depths of her sleeve.  She barely heard Roland and Grace’s yells as the knife left Regina’s hand with a flick of her wrist, spinning towards her with frightening accuracy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations! If you made it this far it means that unfortunately you've come to the point where updates will be a lot farther apart than just a day or two. The good news is that I'm constantly working on this story so there's no need to worry about me abandoning it. If you'd like to chat about the story or about anything really you can find me over on the tumbls (same username: terreisa).
> 
> Also it was always my intention for Killian's cursed name to be Kieran Jones hence him using it as an alias in A Crown and A Captain (Snow parallel for the win). There shall be no sign of Rogers in these waters.
> 
> Next: An interrogation, some integration, and plenty of interactions.


	10. Enemy of the Enemy

“I told you I was just trying to see if she had her magic.  Now get that thing out of my face.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes at Regina’s indignant squawk even as she grit her teeth against the pain in her shoulder.  Grace was trying to bandage it as best she could but Emma could see and feel her hands shaking almost uncontrollably.  She wasn’t sure if it was from being halfway drenched or from seeing her attacked but Emma sat as still as possible to ease Grace’s attempts to stop the bleeding.

 

The knife had embedded itself in her shoulder before Emma had even thought to defend herself against the attack.  Roland’s quick action of pulling her towards him had kept her from being stabbed in the heart but not quick enough to prevent any injury at all.  Only her desire for answers and the arrival of the storm that had been slowly rolling in from offshore had kept Roland from killing Regina on the spot.  It was an impulse she could still see him fighting against.

 

Regina had led them to a rundown cottage deep in the woods, complaining loudly about the cutlass at her back and protesting even louder about what her intentions had been.  The skies had opened up when the cottage had come into view and by the time they all trudged inside the deluge had practically soaked them all through, chilling them considerably.  As soon as the door had closed behind them Roland had tied an irate Regina to a chair and Grace had forced her to sit in another so she could inspect her wound.

 

It wasn’t her first injury from a blade but it was by far the most annoying.  She could somewhat understand Regina’s twisted logic for determining if she really did have her magic or not.  It didn’t mean she wasn’t ready to throw a knife of her own just to make sure Regina’s magic was gone too.  At least she would have the decency to not aim for her heart and end up hitting her sword arm instead.

 

“I’m going to have to stitch it together,” Grace said grimly.

 

“Of course you will,” Emma sighed.  She shifted in her chair and grimaced as a jolt of pain shot down her arm, “Regina do you have any alcohol?  Preferably rum, it tends to burn less.”

 

“You have magic and you still resort to sewing yourself up like a common peon?  It’s a wonder Zelena had problems with you at all- Hey!”

 

“Roland, stop,” Emma said exasperated.  Roland pulled his cutlass back from under Regina’s chin and frowned, but didn’t turn to look at her, “She’s not going to answer any of our questions if we keep threatening her when she insults us.  Which will probably be every time she opens her mouth-”

 

“Not every time,” Regina sneered.

 

“Right, I completely forgot about those miraculous five minutes after we got you out of that tower your sister imprisoned you in,” Emma said acerbically, starting to feel lightheaded. “The rum Regina or I’ll have Roland gag you too.”

 

Regina glared at her, her jaw moving in tight arcs as though she was grinding her teeth.  Finally she straightened up as best as she could still tied to the chair and gave them what could have been taken as a look of apology.

 

“You don’t need the rum.  Untie me and I can patch her up using one of the few things this realm has that’s almost as good as magic.”

 

Looking at Roland and Grace Emma realized they were leaving the decision up to her.  Grace, she noticed with shock, wasn’t shaking from worry or cold but fury.  With fuzzy recollection she remembered that Regina had been guilty of destroying Grace’s life long before Zelena had come along to seemingly out do her.  Roland wasn’t faring much better as his cutlass had only moved from one fatal position to another and his eyes had been trained on Regina from the moment he was reassured Emma wasn’t seriously injured.  With little regret she made her decision.

 

“Tell us what we need to know to heal me and everything you know about this curse.  If what you tell us is actually helpful we might let you go.”

 

“What?!  I’m your only hope at getting around this town without Zelena finding out you’re here!  Without my help you might as well march up to her front door and offer up your heart on a silver platter!”

 

“Roland find something to shut her up.  Grace go find the rum,” Emma said in a cold voice, brushing aside Grace’s hand and reapplying pressure to her wound. “I want to be done and out of here as quickly as possible.”

 

“Wait, wait.  No, wait just a goddamn minute,” Regina said slightly panicked as she watched Roland and Grace begin moving through the cottage. “You can’t just brush off my help, Savior, you need me.”

 

“No, actually, I don’t,” Emma said flatly, glaring at her. “I defended you time and again when the others wanted to lock you up or even kill you after we found you in that tower.  Even when I knew you were keeping something from me I was on your side and I ended up suffering because of it.  You knew about this curse and you knew Zelena was going to enact it, didn’t you?  Why should you want to help me now when you didn’t even consider it when it would have actually mattered?”

 

“I had my reasons,” Regina said hesitantly, her eyes shifting away guiltily.

 

“And I have mine,” Emma said keeping her voice steady despite wanting to rant and rave. “You won’t help us?  Fine.  You’ll just be one of the easier obstacles we need to overcome in this fight.”

 

Regina’s mouth opened and closed like the gaping of a fish out of water.  The momentary flare of vindication Emma felt disappeared quickly as another wave of lightheadedness washed over her.  She pressed harder against her shoulder and was relieved to see Grace emerging from the room she had disappeared to with a nearly full bottle of a promising looking amber liquid and what looked like actual cloth bandages instead of the torn up shirt she had under her hand.  A half second later Roland returned from his search with another shirt he was in the process of tearing apart to create long strips of cloth.

 

“The curse was meant to take away the happy endings of everyone but the one who cast it!” Regina shouted with desperation, warily eyeing Roland. “The Dark One gave it to me to cast and I would have done it if the price of casting it wasn’t so high.”

 

“A heart,” Emma said with grim understanding, remembering the nearly black glowing organ Zelena had crushed as the final ingredient of her curse.

 

“Untie me and I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” Regina said in a pleading tone.

 

“Why should we trust you?” Roland growled, speaking up in a threatening rumble for the first time since they’d come across Regina in the woods.

 

“You shouldn’t but I am your best bet at staying under the radar and getting around this realm without making an ass of yourselves,” Regina scoffed.  Then she continued quietly, “I’ve been a prisoner of my sister one way or another for too long.  Don’t force me to remain under her thumb.”

 

Roland looked back at her, his mistrust and irritation clear on his face but clearly waiting for her to indicate what she wanted.  With the constant feeling of being in way over her head and needing someone, anyone, to help them Emma nodded slowly at Roland, hoping she hadn’t made yet another colossal mistake they would have to pay for later.  Regina sagged in relief as Roland frowned and abandoned the strips of cloth he had been making, moving to remove the ropes and clearly wanting to discuss things further but knowing it would do no good.  Grace’s displeasure with Emma’s decision was more evident as she slammed the bottle of liquor down on the table and stormed out of the cottage.  Wisely Regina kept her mouth shut as Emma sighed heavily and made to stand to grab the bottle herself.

 

“Sit down Emma, I’ll get it,” Roland scolded her gently, stepping away from Regina.

 

“I told you you don’t need that,” Regina said impatiently, squirming in the chair. “Finish untying me and I’ll get you items that are far better than my very limited brandy supply.”

 

After giving Roland a tired, one shouldered shrug Emma tipped her head back until it rested on the high back of her wooden chair and closed her eyes.  She kept her focus on the throbbing pain in her shoulder, pressing down sharply when her thoughts began to wander towards the encounters she’d had that morning.  After a few minutes she felt a hand nuding her own and opened her eyes to see Regina standing over her.

 

“Here,” she said, nudging her hand again with a fist closed around something. “Don’t chew, just swallow it.”

 

Emma opened her hand and Regina dropped what looked like tiny, smoothed white pebbles into her palm.  She brought her palm up closer to her eyes and inspected them warily.

 

“What are they?”

 

“Something better than liquor for dealing with the pain,” Regina said absently as she lined up several objects on a low table that had been moved next to Emma’s chair.  She looked at her and rolled her eyes in exasperation at her hesitation, “It’s this realm’s version of willow bark, just more concentrated and a thousand times more effective.  Oh, here, take these pills too, it’ll prevent infection and I sincerely hope you’re not allergic to penicillin.”

 

Regina hastily dropped two more small pebbles into her hand followed by a metal cup filled with what appeared to be water.  She sniffed at it, earning another huff from Regina and a smirk from Roland, and found that it had no suspicious odor or color from what she could tell.  Well aware that swallowing whatever it was that the woman who had been known as the Evil Queen had given her would be a far greater show of trust than merely stating it Emma felt no qualms in taking a moment to fully consider the allegiance she was about to enter.  It was as she recalled Regina’s admission that she wouldn’t have cast the Dark Curse that she tossed the handful of pills into her mouth.  They were slightly bitter and Emma fumbled for the cup of water to wash them down.

 

“It’ll take a minute for them to start working but you probably want this stitched up now,” Regina said, indicating the bloody rag at her shoulder. “Lucky for you Zelena made one of the doctors a drunk who forgets to lock up his office more often than not.  Another stroke of luck in this god forsaken town.”

 

“What did this curse do exactly?” Emma asked frowning at the lingering bitterness on her tongue.

 

“Like I said, it took away everyone’s happy endings,” Regina began as she started tending to her wound with practiced efficiency. “It brought us here, to the Land Without Magic-”

 

“There’s no magic at all?” Emma asked, wincing as Regina pressed a strong smelling cloth to her shoulder that immediately had her wound stinging fiercely.

 

“None.  I was still wearing this ridiculous cuff-” Regina motioned for Emma to keep holding the cloth. She then pushed back her sleeve to show off the magic preventing piece of leather she’d been forced to wear as Zelena’s prisoner, “-when I woke up in this realm.  I knew where the curse would have taken us but I saw fit to provoke my dear sister when I first saw her here.  She doesn’t have magic but she has other ways of keeping me under her thumb and miserable.”

 

“Remind me to thank her,” Roland murmured loud enough for them both to hear him from where he was leaning against a far wall.

 

Aside from the tightening of her jaw and the flare of her nostrils Regina left the comment unacknowledged.  Emma watched her closely as she prepared the needle and thread, wondering how long before any one of them broke the tentative truce they had found themselves in.  Herself included.

 

“So, the curse brought everyone here and took their memories too?”

 

Regina looked up sharply, “You’ve talked to someone?  Who?”

 

“They won’t tell anyone we’re here,” Emma assured her instead of answering.

 

“You can’t know that,” Regina sneered. “Zelena made sure to make everyone her unhappy pawns.  If they don’t work for her then they spy for her, sometimes both.”

 

“How do we know that you aren’t working for her too-” Roland pushed himself up off the wall and slowly approached until he was towering over them. “That you’re not just keeping us here until you can hand us over to that witch?”

 

“You think I chose to live like this?” Regina threw her hands up, gesturing to the cottage.  The roof was leaking in several spots and icy air was blowing in through the uneven seams of the doors and windows.  She then looked down at herself and scowled, “I woke up here and not only remembered who I had been but who I am in this realm.  I used to be a queen and now I’m the town nut.

 

“No one remembers who they used to be aside from myself and Zelena.  I found out the hard way.  I tried telling anyone that would listen that we weren’t from here and that they weren’t who they believed they were, and earned a three month stay in the looney bin.  Gave me plenty of time to think about getting revenge on my sister and to figure out what lies she put in my head.”

 

As Regina spoke she became more agitated and her voice slipped in and out a pattern of speech Emma would have never thought would slip out of her mouth.  She seemed to catch herself and huffed in annoyance, clenching one of her fists before focusing back on the needle in her other hand.

 

“Time” she gave a stilted laugh then continued as she moved Emma’s hand out of the way and bent towards her shoulder.  There was no sense of gentleness as she began stitching her skin back together, “Time doesn’t move here, or at least it didn’t.  Not for over a year.  I didn’t notice at first since I was trying to convince the idiots of this town that none of this is real and then I was in that godforsaken asylum.

 

“When I got out it was almost too obvious when I actually paid attention.  The people went about the same actions at the same time every day-” Regina frowned, at her wound or her memories Emma wasn’t sure, “-not as though it was a habit or routine but exactly the same.  It only took two days for me to realize what was happening and two more to figure out how to steer clear of anyone that I knew was in my sister’s pocket.”

 

“If time doesn’t move how do you know how much of it has passed?” Emma grit out, the pain of getting stitched up just at the point of becoming unbearable.

 

“I started keeping count of the days when I was locked up and kept going when I figured out that time was stopped,” Regina said offhandedly but Emma could see a muscle in her jaw ticking.  Then her eyes flicked up, “When I saw that the hands on the clock tower had moved I knew you’d finally showed up.”

 

“The clock?” Roland asked with bland disbelief.

 

“It’s been stuck on eight fifteen since we arrived in this hellish realm but this morning it was telling the right time.  I watched it for longer than I’ll admit to you to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.  Then I noticed that people weren’t behaving like robots anymore.  I came back to the woods to wait for you.”

 

“How did you know we’d come to the woods?” Emma asked suspiciously.

 

“You’re in a strange realm where nothing makes sense to any of you and you don’t know whom you can trust.  It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’d take to the woods,” Regina said with a roll of her eyes.  She began to tie off the last stitch with a contemplative look, “Zelena probably won’t notice anything is different for a day or two but we can’t count on anything longer than that.  Of course, that depends on whom you’ve talked to.”

 

“Roland and Grace talked to his father briefly,” Emma hedged, ignoring the betrayed glare Roland shot at her.

 

“And his father is?” Regina asked annoyed as she used another foul smelling rag to clean the remaining blood from her shoulder.

 

“Robin Hood,” Roland growled reluctantly.  When Regina showed no sign of recognition he continued impatiently, “He has brown hair that’s going grey, blue eyes, comes up to my shoulder and is some sort of constable here, forced to arrest his best friend.”

 

“That’s Robin Hood?  I thought he would be… more oafish,” Regina said in disbelief, a small smile playing at her lips.  She blinked and quickly frowned, “He’s known as Ren Archer under the curse.  My sister has him playing deputy under her main pet monkey, Walsh Baum, whom you should avoid at all costs.  Archer’s not quite as bad but he’s a stickler for upholding the law, even the smallest of transgressions will have him pulling out his ticket book.  He’s not the worst person you could have run into but he’s not the best either.”

 

Emma shifted uncomfortably, causing Regina to narrow her eyes at her.

 

“I saw my father but I don’t think he saw me,” she said once more avoiding telling her about Killian.

 

“He goes by David,” Regina scoffed, securing a cloth bandage to her shoulder with a few strips of oddly sticky cloth. “Zelena obviously used little imagination when it came to him.  Even if he saw you it would mean next to nothing.  He runs the animal shelter, keeps to himself, and is grumpier than that dwarf your mother kept around.  You’d be lucky to get more than two words out of him that aren’t miserly.”

 

“He’s still all alone,” Emma whispered, focusing on her hands in her lap.

 

“He has it better than most,” Regina said with a dismissive wave of her hand as she stood and began gathering the supplies she’d used. “At least the dogs and cats he works with all day don’t make him even more miserable than he already is.  Who else?”

 

“I-” Emma paused, plucking at the ruined edges of her shirt that had been ripped open to deal with her wound.  She looked at Roland for comfort but found him watching her stonily.  With a heavy sigh she turned back to Regina, “We ran into Killian when we arrived and then I met him again after I saw my father.  He told me his name is Kieran.  It’s how we knew that the memories had been taken.”

 

Regina pursed her lips and Emma waited with trepidation for what she would say.  It was almost too much knowing that Killian didn’t recognize her, she didn’t think she could handle knowing that he was a close ally of Zelena and therefore that he could have fooled her so easily.

 

Before Regina could say a word, however, a sharp rapping sounded at the front door.  Emma and Roland jumped to attention, drawing their swords, even though the movement caused her shoulder to scream in protest.

 

“Put those away you idiots!” Regina hissed, dumping the unused bandages and dirty rags into Emma’s arms. “No one can know you’re here let alone hiding out with me.  Go into the bedroom and don’t make a sound!”

 

Regina shoved them none too gently towards a room at the back of the cottage, practically slamming the door closed behind them.  Emma dropped the things in her arms onto the misshapen mattress and resheathed her sword before sidling up to the door and pressing her ear to it as Roland had already done.  She could hear Regina’s muffled footsteps and the sound of the front door as it opened.

 

“Well, hello Regina,” a low pitched, male voice said. “Am I interrupting something?  I thought I heard voices.”

 

Emma’s fingers dug into the wood under her hand.  She tried to quiet her breathing as much as she could but the pounding of her heart was nearly drowning out every other sound.

 

“I like to talk to myself since no one else wants to talk to the crazy woman that lives in the woods,” Regina said calmly. “What do you want Walsh?”

 

“Sheriff Baum or Sir,” the man called Walsh said absently, as though it was an oft repeated phrase. “Looks like you’ve a bit of an issue with a leaky roof.”

 

“It’s no worse than it was last time we had rain.  Did Zelena send you here?”

 

“Mayor Viridans is concerned about the conditions of this cabin-” Emma could hear planks of wood squeaking gently under Walsh’s feet as he moved about the cottage. “You know as well as I do it was abandoned for a reason and you’ve been squatting.  We’ve turned a blind eye to it but with winter coming on we simply can’t do that anymore.  There’s a shelter in town-”

 

“What if I get permission from the owner to live here?  Pay him rent or something?” Regina asked frantically as Emma listened to Walsh’s footsteps stop near their door.

 

“Mister Gold?” Walsh’s feet shuffled and Emma pictured the unseen man turning to look at Regina in disbelief. “He has dozens of other properties and tenants to worry about.  Why would he make an exception for a woman who has no money to stay in the cabin he’s about to demolish?”

 

“What?” Regina’s voice was quiet and stunned.

 

“It didn’t take much to convince him,” Walsh’s footsteps moved back towards the front of the cottage. “We both agreed that it was past time to get rid of this dump and take care of the unwanted- oh, I’m sorry, uninvited guest in it.  As I said there’s a shelter in town, if not Mayor Viridans is more than willing to allow you to return to your room at Storybrooke Manor.”

 

“I’ll return to that hell hole in a body bag first,” Regina spat out.

 

“Then we’d welcome you to the morgue instead,” Walsh said blandly. “You have until tomorrow to move along or the invitation to Storybrooke Manor won’t be a request.”

 

They silently listened as Walsh’s footsteps tapered off and the sound of the front door slamming caused them to jump.  It was several tense moments before Regina snapped at them to come out of the bedroom.

 

“Like I said people in this town are starting to act different,” Regina said brusquely as she pushed past them.  Emma watched as she grabbed an overstuffed pack and a smaller, equally stuffed one from under the bed, “I’ve only ever had warnings from that idiot before, not threats.  It’s a good thing I’ve had plenty of time to prepare for this.  Here, put this on before we leave.”

 

Regina pulled a shirt from one of the packs and threw it towards her.  Unlike her own it was made of a lightweight material that was soft to the touch.  Emma wondered idly if Regina would give her one that wasn’t dyed such a lush shade of blue but decided against asking when she noticed her hastily prying up a loose floorboard.  With Regina occupied and Roland seemingly avoiding looking at her altogether as he moved to the front room she quickly removed her waistcoat and ruined shirt and drew the new one over her head.

 

“Don’t put that back on,” Regina said as Emma was reaching for her waistcoat.  She had slung her packs over her shoulders and had a metal box in her hands, “We’re trying to get you to blend in, remember?  I would say change the pants and lose the sword but we don’t have time right now and I doubt you’ll even consider being unarmed.  I have some things for that other woman whenever she decides to rejoin us but Paul Bunyan out there is going to have to wait for me find something that might fit him.”

 

“I have a name,” Roland grumbled annoyed.

 

“And I’ll take the time to learn it when I’m sure that Walsh and Zelena aren’t breathing down my neck.  Unfortunately I didn’t plan for three hangers-on when I set up my hiding spots but we’ll have to suck it up and get on with it.  I don’t have a lot of food but I think there might be- no, I can’t take that- but maybe I could-”

 

She dissolved into incoherent mumbling as she moved toward what Emma assumed was the cooking and eating area.  Keeping out of her way she tried to catch Roland’s eye instead but he was resolutely looking out of one of the cottage’s windows into the rainy afternoon.  She stood next to him and looked out the window herself, seeing nothing but the steady downpour and the small streams of water running across the forest floor.

 

“Do you think that Walsh guy saw Grace?” Emma asked quietly, ignoring the sounds of Regina banging around in the other room.

 

“I think Grace has the most sense out of all of us right now,” Roland said steadily.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Looking up at him she found him glaring at her, a vein in his temple throbbing.  She had never seen him so angry before.

 

“Come off it Emma, you know exactly what I mean,” he said lowly, his eyes flashing. “You’ve lost your head completely now that you’ve found Killian again.  This land is strange and terrifying and we should have gone back to the Jewel this morning instead of trying to figure things out through clumsy prodding and half formed ideas.  We’re working with the Evil Queen, the one who ruined hundreds of lives even before her sister, who was somehow worse, came along.  Grace has suffered because of both of them and she’s right not to fall in line with what we’re doing here.”

 

“It sounds like you’re blaming me,” she said angrily, her temper flaring. “You’re the one that’s been going along with everything, keeping these opinions of yours to yourself.  You expect me to be this all powerful savior, coming here and breaking this nightmare with a wave of my hand and a smile and that’s not going to happen.  Take a look around, we need someone who knows how this land works to stop us from destroying what chance we do have at ending this curse and right now that person is Regina.”

 

“I don’t trust her.”

 

“Fine, don’t, but I’m not going to just cast aside the only thing that will give us an edge over Zelena.  We’re going to need her since apparently I’ve lost my head completely.”

 

Leaving Roland gaping behind her Emma joined Regina in the other room.  There were battered pots and chipped plates covering every flat surface which there wasn’t much of in the small room.  Aside from the absence of a fireplace it looked much like every cooking space Emma had seen in her travels.  Regina was busy filling another small pack with metal canisters that clanked together discordantly as she moved about.

 

“I hope this storm passes quickly,” Regina said conversationally, clearly unaware of what Emma and Roland had been discussing in the front room. “We’re going to have to rough it until we’re certain that Walsh and Zelena will let the cabin be for a while longer.  I’d say we could go to that old house on the other side of town but we’d spotted sooner rather than later.”

 

“We have somewhere to stay,” Emma said distractedly as she picked up a red box adorned with a colorful drawing of a tropical bird with an impossibly large beak surrounded by even more colorful round rings.

 

“It’s cereal and how do you already have somewhere to hide?  How exactly did you get here?”

 

“A magic bean-” she shrugged, trying to cover the unsteadiness she felt after her argument with Roland, and set the box down on the table. “It took a while for us to find it and and then we sailed through the portal on a ship.”

 

“A ship?” Regina said flatly, then shook her head. “Of course you did and it’s probably sitting out there in the harbor where anyone can see it, including my sister or any of her snitches.  Why are we even bothering hiding then?”

 

“It’s not,” Emma said shortly. “Despite what you think I’m not stupid, I had the others anchor her where they wouldn’t be seen.  I guess you’ve forgotten that I was able to avoid Zelena for years, thanks to a trick or two I learned from my mother.  You know, the one who evaded you time and again before she took her throne back and had you banished?”

 

Without pause Emma turned and stormed out of the cottage, past a still brooding Roland, into the dampened woods, her temper burning white hot.  The rain had tapered off into a fine mist that slowly gathered on her new shirt and made it sodden as she stalked forward without any sense of where she was headed, ignoring every instinct to turn back around or unsheath her sword in the uncertainty of what she could run into next.  She knew Roland would easily be able to track her, if he felt so inclined, but between what little Regina had told them and the unexpected visit from the stranger she felt even more on edge than she had already been.

 

The sound of a branch breaking to her left had her staggering to a halt and pulling out her sword.  For the second time her shoulder protested against the movement and she felt a wet warmth that she knew without looking that she had undone some of Regina’s work.  It was something she pushed aside as she spun towards the sound, sword held steadily in front of her.

 

“Turner and Marty have anchored the Jewel in a small inlet just beyond this ridge,” Grace said nonplussed as Emma dropped her arm with a hiss.  She look back towards the direction of the cottage with a frown, “Is it too much to hope that you’ve come to your senses and not accepted her help?”

 

Guilt swelled within her, “Grace-”

 

“Don’t tell her who I am,” Grace interrupted, a resigned look in her eyes. “I doubt she’ll remember me or what she’s done but I don’t want her false apologies or worse her indifference.  Let her think I’m just a member of your crew with no true stake in this fight.  It’ll be easier for all of us that way.”

 

“But your children,” Emma said, stricken.

 

“I will find them without her help,” Grace said resolutely, a stubborn tilt to her chin.  She stared at her, seemingly waiting for an argument before changing the subject completely, “I’m sure Turner saw me but we’ll have to either find another rowboat or retrieve ours to get to back to the Jewel.”

 

“That means risking going back into the town,” Emma sighed. “Did you happen to see the man that came to the cottage?”

 

“What man?  I only just started making my way back there because the rain had finally let up a bit.  What did he look like?”

 

“I don’t know,” she sighed, frustrated. “I just know after he left Regina lost it, started tearing the cottage apart gathering supplies.  She told us there’s no one in the town we can trust because apparently everyone is Zelena’s spy.”

 

“I think there is someone you can trust,” Grace said with a small smile.

 

“Who?  Zelena has altered everyone’s memories, changed who they are.  My own father is apparently cantankerous and unpleasant and you saw what Killian is like-”

 

“Exactly-” Grace’s smile grew slightly and became somewhat hopeful. “He had plenty of opportunity to report what he saw last night to Zelena but he didn’t.  Yes, he stopped you from attacking her but he also didn’t drag you before her to try and curry some favor with her.  I didn’t know Killian from before but nothing about him now has me believing he’s working with Zelena.”

 

“We can’t force ourselves to see something that isn’t there,” Emma said stubbornly, tamping down the small bubble of hope that she could feel rising.

 

“And we can’t ignore the things that are.”

 

Emma wanted to argue against what Grace was implying but then Killian’s face floated into her mind.  The soft, quizzical, look he had given her in the alley when he has asked who she was had been eerily similar to the looks he had bestowed on her when they had first been getting to know one another.  From the moment she had walked away from the alley she hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on the similarities of the man she loved and the stranger he’d become but Grace’s words had broken the dam in her mind.  That small glimpse of wonder and admiration was something she could hold onto when everything else felt so far out of her reach.

 

“You do know that storming off like that could end up with you coming face to face with Zelena right?” Regina’s voice called out.

 

Emma turned and saw that Regina had saddled Roland with one of her packs as she carried the two others.  They were lumbering towards them with equally disgruntled looks that she knew came from different thoughts and frustrations.  Neither looked apologetic for what they had said to her back in the cabin and she grit her teeth against the anger she could feel rising again.

 

“Grace has found where Turner has anchored the Jewel,” she said shortly.

 

“I’m not staying on some moldy ship where the only way to escape is waiting for one of you to slowly row some boat back to shore or jump into the freezing ocean,” Regina huffed, dropping everything to the ground unceremoniously. “The cabin should be fine after a few days as long as the teacher’s pet Sheriff Baum and Deputy Do-good Archer don’t change their patrol routes.”

 

“Then you can go to whatever hollowed out log you deem fit to hide in but I’m not leaving my crew unaware of what’s happened or ignoring what ideas they might have on how to defeat Zelena.  We need your help but we can make do without it,” Emma said dismissively.

 

All three of them stared at her in shock as she stared defiantly back.  She was tired, her shoulder was throbbing, and the dull ache in her stomach was a constant reminder that she’d had nothing to eat other than a few bites of hardtack early that morning.  Her patience had finally run out and she wanted nothing more than to shutter herself in the captain’s cabin on the Jewel and sleep for a week.

 

“We’ll need to get the rowboat we came in on,” Grace said softly.

 

“That means going back to the harbor-” Roland frowned, setting his noisy pack down. “We’ll be seen by someone if we go now but we can’t wait until night falls again.”

 

“Are you insane?  Half this town works at or near the docks and any one of them could report seeing you back to Zelena!”

 

“We’ll just have to risk it,” Emma said, ignoring Regina’s outburst and furious glare. “If we all go it’ll be more suspicious.  I’ll go with Grace and meet you at the shore closest to the Jewel.”

 

“You can’t row with that shoulder, Emma,” Roland scoffed and then narrowed his eyes at Regina. “I’m also not staying behind with her.”

 

“Then you go with Grace and I’ll wait at the shore with Regina,” Emma said exasperated.

 

“I thought I said I wasn’t going to get on any damn ship,” Regina huffed.

 

“Why are you still here then?” Emma snapped back. “Go back to avoiding your sister by hiding out in the woods and stealing things to survive.  You have to actually be willing to fight back if you want things to change.  You haven’t had any kind of power for a long time now, don’t think that by helping us you can act like you do.”

 

Regina’s jaw dropped as she stared at her like she’d been slapped.  Emma waited.  Finally Regina closed her mouth and folded her arms over her chest but made no move to pick up her packs to leave.  With one battle won Emma turned to Grace and Roland.

 

“You two go get the boat but leave your swords with me-” she held up a hand against their protests. “Killian was suspicious of mine and you saw, like I did, that no one in this realm walks around armed with weapons.”

 

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Regina scoffed.

 

Emma frowned but continued, “Get the boat, row it here if you can, if not at least get it out of the harbor and away from prying eyes.  We can carry it between us overland if we have to.  We can camp within sight of the Jewel so Turner will at least see that we haven’t abandoned him.  Grace which way to the inlet?”

 

“Walk straight back that way,” Grace said, turning to point slightly north of where they were standing. “Even if you veer a little off course you’ll be able to spot the Jewel from the cliffside above the shore.  There seemed to be a path leading down to a small beach where you won’t be seen if you decide to light a fire.”

 

“Okay, good-” she nodded and bent down to pick up the pack she was sure was filled with foodstuffs.  When she straightened and had the pack settled over her good shoulder she held out her hand, “Give me your swords.”

 

With only a little grumbling from Roland and silence from Grace they handed over their scabbards.  They walked away with little fanfare, only sending a glare from each of them towards Regina and receiving one from Emma in return.  She gingerly adjusted the pack on her shoulder and headed in the direction Grace had pointed out without waiting to see if Regina would follow her.  A loud sigh and squelching footfalls came not long after and Emma grinned in spite of herself.

 

It wasn’t long before the smell of the sea overwhelmed the odors of the forest and the sound of the waves crashing upon the shore drowned out the heavy drops of water falling from the canopy above.  Emma gradually quickened her pace until the pain in her shoulder forced her to slow down but not before she broke through the treeline to see the endless stretch of ocean before her.  The rain had finally stopped but the stormclouds remained, a roiling grey mass that reminded her of unpolished metal.  She took in a deep breath of the salt laden air and when her eyes lit upon the Jewel floating serenely in the calm inlet below she felt at ease for the first time since they’d arrived.

 

“You sailed that thing through a portal?” Regina snorted indelicately, effectively shattering Emma’s brief sense of tranquility.

 

“Obviously,” she grumbled. “Let’s see if we can find that path Grace mentioned.”

 

The path was easy enough to find but the longer Emma stared at it the more treacherous it looked.  It seemed to be nothing more than an animal trail barely worn into the side of the cliff that overlooked the inlet.  Hardly wider than the width of her shoulders it was clearly not meant to be traversed by someone laden down with cumbersome packs and extra swords.  Looking back at Regina she could see the same trepidation she felt in her eyes.

 

“Is there anything in this pack that might break?” Emma asked casually as she eyed the distance to the beach below.

 

“Not that one.  It’s all- Hey!”

 

Emma watched with childlike glee as the pack spun several times in the air as it careened down to the pebbly beach below.  The slight clanging of metal exploded into a cacophony of sound when the pack hit the ground and dozens of metal cylinders spilled out of the top.  Movement on the deck of the Jewel caught her eye and she saw the figures of Turner and the slightly shorter Marty staring in their direction.  She let out a shout of greeting and returned the wave they gave her, a smile nearly splitting her face in two.

 

“Just because there wasn’t anything breakable in there doesn’t mean something hasn’t been ruined,” Regina said exasperated.

 

“But now I can walk down this trail without worrying about tumbling down the cliff myself-” she shrugged, her sudden uplift in mood making her giddy. “Plus I’ve always wanted to do something like that.”

 

“Throw a bag of cans off a cliff?” Regina asked in disbelief.

 

“No-” laughing with only a little humor she started to carefully walk down the slightly rocky path, “Throw something of yours off a cliff.”

 

Silence followed her as she descended but a second pack had sailed over the cliff and she could hear Regina’s feet scraping down the path behind her.  Despite her focusing solely on keeping her feet on the path she could feel Turner and Marty’s eyes on her.  She wondered how they had fared overnight, if they’d run into any trouble during the day, and as she contemplated what to tell Turner about Killian she stepped down onto the uneven but firm rocky sand of the beach.

 

Without a glance back to see if Regina was alright she rushed as close as she could get to the Jewel without getting her boots wet in the gentle waves lapping at the shore.  Turner had informed her once that the Jewel’s shallow draft allowed her to enter harbors and bays that were inaccessible to other, larger, ships and could get closer to a shore as well. However, it seemed he was concerned about the inhabitants of the new realm because the Jewel was anchored at the mouth of the inlet, positioned so that she was facing east towards the open sea.  Emma could see Turner watching her but couldn’t make out if he was smiling or frowning at her.  Marty on the other hand was leaning almost completely over the railing.

 

“Ahoy!” She called out, raising her left arm.

 

“Ahoy!” Marty yelled back enthusiastically, his shout echoing off the walls of the cliff surrounding the water.

 

“Alright?”

 

“Aye,” Turner answered, his head tilting up to presumably look at the top of the cliff she’d just descended. “And you?”

 

“We’re fine.  All of us,” she reassured him as much as she could by shouting. “Waiting for the row boat to come back aboard.”

 

“Of course.  We’ll all just have to wait then I suppose.”

 

“Looks like it.”

 

With a final wave of her hand she turned back to see Regina watching her, frowning.  The frown deepened and Emma wondered if she was about to be lectured for shouting out where anyone could hear her.

 

“You popped your stitches,” Regina said instead.

 

“Huh?” Emma looked down at her shoulder and saw a small patch of blood that was slowly growing on her shirt. “Oh, I thought I might have.”

 

“Sit,” Regina said exasperated and pointed to a piece of driftwood that she had set one of her packs beside.

 

She went without argument.  They had nothing but time now and her sudden burst of energy and good humor had abandoned her, leaving her feeling more exhausted and wrung out than before.  Slumping down on the piece of wood she dropped the swords she was still holding onto and detachedly pulled her arm out of her sleeve to remove her shirt enough for Regina to have an easier time patching her back up.

 

“Was it worth it?” Regina asked as she tipped what turned out to be the foul smelling ointment onto a rag before pressing it to her shoulder.

 

“Was what worth it?” She asked tiredly, holding the rag in place as Regina began threading a needle.

 

“Injuring yourself further by throwing our food over a cliff.”

 

“It wasn’t from that-” she winced as Regina started her stitches. “I think some were from when that Walsh guy came by the cottage and the others were from Grace sneaking up on me in the forest.”

 

“You know you won’t be able to go anywhere in town wearing a sword on your hip either, right?” Regina scolded.  Her eyes flickered up and Emma saw something akin to regret in them before Regina settled her gaze on her shoulder and said uncomfortably, “I never thanked you.  You know, for rescuing me the first time.”

 

“Regina-”

 

“No, let me say this,” Regina sat back on her heels and looked at her straight in the eye. “I have done terrible things in my life, mostly to your mother but to plenty of other people as well.  The years I’ve spent as Zelena’s prisoner, being tortured by her because she believed she deserved more, it made me realize that no matter what lies I had told myself to be able to sleep at night it didn’t matter.  In the end I was just like her.  I was too blinded by seeking my revenge that I couldn’t see what it really was I was torturing and killing for, what Zelena is still grasping for now: power.

 

“Coming to this realm and the time I spent in the asylum, it all became clear the horrors I’ve committed, the damage I’ve done.  I’m not asking for for things to be swept under a rug and ignored as we work together or for a reward at the end of all of this.  I know from the way your crew looks at me that I’ve somehow destroyed their lives in one way or another and I have to pay for that and I give you my word that I will.  I just… I need you to know that you can trust me, even if you never forgive me.”

 

Emma gave her a shallow nod, too stunned to form any words.  Every conversation she’d had with the woman had been filled with barbs and insults.  She had never heard her sound so sincere and so unlike the Evil Queen she’d heard about from too many stories and too many people whose lives had been destroyed.  Regina’s mouth ticked up slightly as she went back to stitching up her shoulder, apparently satisfied with her reaction.

 

As Regina tied off the last stitch Emma gathered her courage, figuring that if she really could trust her then when she asked her a question she’d get a truthful answer.  She only hoped she was strong enough to hear it.

 

“When I mentioned that it was Killian that I talked to you looked like you were about to say something,” she said hesitantly.  She put her shirt back to rights and focused her gaze on her wringing hands, “Is he one of the ones we can’t trust because he works for Zelena?”

 

“No-” Regina sighed and sat next to her, “it isn’t that.  He’s probably one of the few people in town that openly hates her and doesn’t miss an opportunity to show it.”

 

“Oh,” Emma smiled slightly. “Then what is it?”

 

Regina hesitated and turned to look out at the Jewel, “You didn’t talk about him much when we were in my palace but you didn’t need to, it was easy to tell how you felt about him.  As it was Zelena didn’t only use that mirror to taunt me but to vent.  She hated that somehow you working with my cousin made it even more impossible to bring you down.  The man whose heart she had, his friend, he had told her how close you two had gotten.  It was something she didn’t forget when she cast the curse.”

 

“What… what else did she do to him?” Emma couldn’t help the waver in her voice, picturing his missing hand in her mind.

 

“He’s not hurt.  He may have one of the worst jobs in town, but he’s relatively fine.”

 

“Then if he’s miserable like you it’ll be easy to get him on our side, get him to help us.  I can get him to remember me and we can break the curse with True Love’s kiss!”

 

She turned towards Regina excitedly only to find her looking at back at her sadly.  Her stomach dropped as she dug her nails into her palms and took deep breaths to keep herself steady.

 

Neither made any difference when Regina finally spoke.

 

“Emma, I’m sorry but... he’s married.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're mad at me because a) Killian wasn't in this chapter and/or b) because I gave him a wife I'm only truly sorry for a. I really really wanted to get him in but it was a big block and it would have ended up feeling extremely forced. I promise there'll be plenty of him in the next chapter. As for the wife thing, it was yet another plan I've had since the early days of writing this series. Yes, I'm deliberately mirroring the Snow/Charming v Katherine from season 1, with good reason.
> 
> Next: Definitely more Killian and some other interactions.


	11. Set an Open Course

Turning over in her bunk for what felt like the fiftieth time in under an hour Emma sighed and screwed her eyelids shut even tighter in an attempt to force herself to fall asleep.  She knew it wouldn’t work, the previous six nights of similar attempts had effectively proven that to her.  The best she could hope for was an hour or two of jagged dreams before either the ache in her shoulder or the sounds of others moving about the ship signalled it was time for her to go about starting her day.  Never mind that it felt as though all the previous days had seemed to meld into one long, unending day.

 

After Regina had informed her of Killian’s situation the rest of that day had become a blur of memories.  She knew that Roland and Grace had returned with the rowboat but she couldn’t remember when or how.  She remembered returning to the Jewel and speaking with Turner but she didn’t remember what she had said or if she had even acknowledged Marty or the others before holing up in the captain’s cabin.  The first solid thing she remembered from that evening had been when Grace had forced her to eat something before swallowing another handful of Regina’s pebbles as Grace cleaned up her shoulder once more.

 

At first it had been easy to hide her inability to sleep from the others.  As she was recovering from an injury caused by the woman known as the Evil Queen a blanket of hostility had settled over the ship and nearly everyone was too wound up to truly pay her any attention.  Grace and Roland left wherever they had been, whether it was the galley, Emma’s cabin, or even above deck, whenever Regina came within spitting distance.  Turner and Marty on the other hand had tried for civility and edged into almost manic cheerfulness in their attempts to maintain peace.

 

Finally Emma had had enough.  She’d ordered Turner to return with Regina back to shore to gather what information he could and so Regina could keep up the appearance that nothing was amiss.  Everyone had argued for nearly two hours after she’d given the order, both for and against her decision.  In the end Emma pointed out that they had a limited amount of supplies and that Zelena or her men would go looking for Regina eventually if she disappeared completely.

 

At first light the next morning Turner and Regina had rowed to shore and immediately it felt as though a dark cloud had been lifted from the Jewel’s deck.  Marty and Roland wasted no time in curiously examining some of the items Regina had originally brought with her from the rundown cottage and placed in the galley.  Grace had joined them not long after, a reluctant curiosity in her eyes.  Despite knowing Regina had put the strange things out with the intention that they could be looked at Emma still felt the shame of being a snoop as she sat at the table and examined the odd doodads herself.

 

Some it turned out were strange equivalents of things they’d known all their lives.  There were lanterns and heavy metal cylinders that could be lit with some fiddling and poking and without any visible wick or flame, a multitude of foodstuffs, and what seemed to be a portable cooktop that produced a strong metallic odor when its knobs were turned.  Then there were a handful tools the likes of which they could never guess the use of without Regina there to explain.  Their favorite by far was a confusing looking metal box that with the same fiddling and poking they had done to the lantern produced music and talking from seemingly nowhere.  When Turner and Regina returned at dusk they had been sitting around the box for a majority of the day and bombarded Regina with questions when she entered the galley.

 

After that they established a routine.  During the day Turner and Regina went ashore to gather supplies and to spy on the town while those left on the ship poured over the previous day’s haul and information.  At night Regina explained as much as she could about the realm they had found themselves in, sometimes in generalities other times spending hours explaining how one thing worked, like the strange carriages.  Tensions lessened as the days went by and although trust was still an issue there were no longer open hostilities between everyone on board the Jewel.

 

It wasn’t until the morning of the fourth day after they’d returned to the Jewel that Emma was pulled aside by Grace.  At first she’d merely asked how she had been sleeping and when Emma had been fumbling over her answer Grace had asked what Regina had said to upset her.  As Grace had intended Emma had been caught off guard by the question and had answered honestly.  Grace had cursed both Regina and Killian’s names under her breath but she hadn’t left Emma’s side or pushed her to elaborate on how she was handling the information herself.  She also hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else and for that Emma was eternally grateful, even if she’d had to deal with Grace pestering her about getting more sleep instead.

 

Despite only Regina and Grace being aware of Killian’s marriage under the curse and the other’s preoccupations with learning about the new realm the days were not much easier than the nights.  There were stretches of time where she was nothing but idle, her shoulder prevented her from doing any kind of ship maintenance which Marty gladly took upon himself.  Cataloguing the supplies and goods brought back to the ship weren’t much to keep any of them busy for long and she mainly left it for Roland and Grace to complete if there wasn’t anything particularly interesting among them.  It was during those seemingly endless, boring times that her mind inevitably turned to Killian.  No matter how hard she tried to fight against it.

 

In the beginning her thoughts had been focused on the cruelty of Zelena’s curse.  The way Killian’s eyes had yet to light up in recognition when he saw her or the small, fond smile that would play at his lips when she spoke to him had been replaced with intrigued lust, light suspicion and not a single spark of any memory of her.  Emma’s ire would rise at the unfairness of it all, leaving her nearly spitting with rage at Zelena for taking her Killian away from her.  Then, inevitably like a bucket of ice cold sea water dumped over her head, she would remember once again that Killian was married under the curse and the vicious cycle of cursing Zelena would start anew.

 

Late one night, as she had been about to drift off into uneasy sleep, a troubling thought had occurred to her.  Regina had told them that the curse had been cast with the intention of making everyone under its spell miserable, as Zelena intended.  The idea that had struck Emma, forced her to sit up gasping in the dark and blinking back fresh tears of anguish, was the idea that perhaps Killian’s misery wasn’t compounded by his cursed marriage but somewhat alleviated by it.  That he could be even the smallest bit happy with his wife felt as though a red hot blade had been slid between her ribs, straight into her heart.  Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that Zelena hadn’t intended Killian’s marriage to be a torture for him but for her, on the chance that she would eventually arrive to try and break the curse.

 

As much as she wanted Killian back, whole and his memories intact, she knew that she couldn’t bring herself to want to cause even a fraction of the heartbreak she’d been feeling since their separation to anyone else, Killian especially.  The agony of her realization that Killian could possibly love another, even a cursed love, only added to her worries and her fragile state of being.  Any hope she had of finding sleep had evaporated leaving exhaustion and despair to become her constant companions.

 

Emma blinked back tears as her mind once again ran rampant with imaginings of the life Killian was possibly living under the curse.  No matter how often she reminded herself that what Regina said about the misery under the curse was, in fact, truth she couldn’t help but picture Killian’s lips kissing another, holding her, comforting her, loving her and it was a torture better than anything else Zelena could have imagined.  The thought had dug into her mind like a parasitic worm that burrowed ever deeper with each passing hour causing her to pull back from the others and more into herself and her misery.  It wouldn’t be long before someone other than Grace noticed her distress and she dreaded having to put her fears into words.  That somehow saying them aloud would make them true.

 

Watching the slow lightening of her cabin from the rising sun Emma forced herself to think about other things.  She finally settled on wondering how much longer they could feasibly lie in wait.  Sooner or later Killian wouldn’t be the only one aware that there were strangers in the town.  It was only a matter of time before Turner would be questioned more closely during one of his trips to shore or the Jewel was spotted and Zelena informed of their presence.  With a heavy sigh she pulled herself out of her bunk and settled blearily at her desk to try and come up with a plan for when they were inevitably discovered.

 

Two hours later a knock sounded at her door, startling her awake from the fragile doze she’d fallen into.

 

“Come in,” she  called, hoping she sounded somewhat alert.

 

Emma looked down and was embarrassed to see that the piece of parchment she’d intended for her plans was instead covered with scribbled ramblings about Killian and the curse.  She quickly slid it under her captain’s log as Grace stepped into the cabin.

 

“Morning,” Grace said quietly.  She had two steaming cups of tea in her hands and offered one to her before settling herself down in the chair on the opposite side of the desk, “There was coffee in the galley but you don’t really need anything that will only increase your inability to sleep.”

 

Scowling, Emma sniffed at her cup and rolled her eyes at the slight floral scent of chamomile mixing with the sweet notes of honey and a bitter tang of something most likely meant to ease her into sleep.  Of all the wonders in the new realm the abundance of goods had astounded them all.  Items that had been only fit for purchase by the wealthy or royalty in their realm could easily be bought at the marketplace by anyone of any standing.  Exotic spices, decadent sweets, luxurious fabrics and more were all practically for the taking according to Turner.  Of everything it was the ease with which she could indulge in a cup of bitter coffee at any moment she wished that Emma was most grateful for, especially as the nights without rest continued on.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emma deflected, blowing almost too harshly on her tea.

 

“You’re not as clever as you think you are,” Grace hummed, sipping at her own cup. “Young Marty has noticed the shadows under your eyes, Roland’s heard you pacing your cabin at night, and even Regina has attempted to talk to me about it.  I’d say Turner was ignorant of it but I know he’s been contemplating using his bag of poppy dust on you, damn the consequences.

 

“I know coming to this realm, discovering what we have about it, has been trying but there something more than that weighing you down-” Grace paused before leaning forward to catch her eye, “You will break this curse and Killian will be by your side once more.  Of that I- no, we have no doubt.”

 

Her stomach clenched painfully as the cup in her grip began to shake, sloshing scalding tea 

onto the back of her hand.  Hissing in pain Emma was horrified to discover tears welling up in her eyes as it all became too much to keep locked down inside her.  She was barely able to set her cup down on the desk before she dissolved into shuddering, disjointed sobs.

 

Emma was vaguely aware of Grace moving to her side and trying to comfort her as best she could.  Even as her body shook and hot tears trailed down her cheeks she recognized that it was a break that had been a long time coming.  She had pushed herself to her limit, physically and emotionally.  As she fought to steady herself and stave off her tears she knew she needed to tell someone else about the dark thoughts that had been consuming her.  Her first child like wish was for her mother to be the one comforting her, to listen to her troubles, but she dashed that yearning away like she had so many times before and turned to Grace with a feeble smile.

 

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, belatedly realizing she had Grace’s hands gripped tightly in her own.  She released them quickly and wiped at the tears still coursing down her cheeks, “It’s been a rough week.”

 

“Emma, you’re not made of stone.  It appears I was right to be concerned that you thought you were,” Grace said softly with a light scolding edge to it.

 

“I don’t think I’m made of stone-” she hiccupped, “I just didn’t want to worry anyone else with my problems.  We have enough going on that my dumb issues aren’t important right now.”

 

“Of course they’re important,” Grace said fiercely, tsking at her before practically shoving her cup of tea back into her hands. “If any one of us had been acting as you have would you allow them to continue suffering in silence or would you have approached them?”

 

She dropped her eyes to her cup still reluctant to share what she’d been feeling, “If it affected how they were able to work with the others I would have talked to them.”

 

“But not otherwise?”

 

“No, I would have asked what was going on the moment I realized something was wrong,” she whispered, her shoulders hunching in defeat.

 

“I’m not going to pressure you to confide every maudlin thought with me Emma but you do need to talk about some of the things plaguing you.  And you need to drink that entire cup of tea, no arguing.”

 

With a small, halfhearted nod Emma took a tentative sip.  The tea was still hot and the generous amount of honey in it felt soothing as it passed over her throat that was somewhat ragged from her sobs.  She ignored the slightly bitter aftertaste of whatever potion they had added to help her sleep and took another sip.

 

“Do you ever wonder- or, um, worry about your children?” Emma asked tentatively, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on her tea.

 

“Every day from the moment they were taken from me,” Grace answered easily. “I worry that they’ve been hurt or that they’ve been sent to work in unforgiving conditions.  I wonder if they’re still together or if they were separated and each of them is alone.  But most of all I’m afraid that they believe that I’m never coming for them or worse, that they’ve forgotten me altogether.  Some days are harder than others but I never let it wear me down.  I’ll find them, if only to set my mind and heart at ease.”

 

“Have you ever thought about what you would do if you found them and they were... happy?” Emma asked almost in a whisper.

 

Grace sat back on her heels.  Emma was still stubbornly focused on her cup but she could see Grace’s fingers drumming on her knee out of the corner of her eye.  Finally Grace sighed and stood, slowly moving back to the chair she’d vacated.

 

“Not often but yes, I’ve sometimes wondered if they’d found happiness with another family or that they’ve escaped Regi- Zelena’s clutches and made a life for themselves that they’re satisfied with.  Then I remember my own childhood, being separated from my father and raised by a loving couple in his stead.  I was happy at times but I was never satisfied because I knew a large part of myself was missing.  It’s a hole in my heart that’s never been filled.”

 

Emma could feel tears threatening again so she hastily took another sip of tea.  A lethargy was starting to steal over her but she fought against it, knowing if she didn’t speak then that she never would and her troubles would only continue to grow.

 

“What if Killian is happily mar- married?  What if he’s grown to love the woman Zelena cursed him to be with?  If I break the curse what then?  He’d be forced to choose, wouldn’t he?”

 

“You’re afraid he’ll choose her,” Grace sighed knowingly.

 

“We were barely together before the curse and it’s been over a year since it was cast.  He’s been with this woman, his wife, for that long, with false memories of a life together for longer than that.  Not only could he choose her over me but he could hate me for making him choose in the first place.  I could live with him being with someone else.  I will if it means that it will be only my heart broken as a result,” Emma said as resolutely as she could with the waver in her voice.

 

Grace was quiet for a moment before rapping her knuckles on the desk to grab her attention.  Emma looked up slowly to see Grace smiling sadly at her.

 

“From what I’ve seen and from what you told me of the last time you saw him he doesn’t seem particularly happy with his lot in this cursed life,” Grace said gently. “Regina told us that the curse has made everyone unhappy.  I’m sure that this marriage of his is just another way of doing so.”

 

“But-”

 

“But it’s not only about him.  There are many more people here living in misery because of what Zelena has done and we came here to save them.  Think of your father, Roland’s father, your friends and family that are roaming around this realm lost and without hope-” Grace shrugged sadly, “and if it turns out things are more complicated after the curse is broken then we’ll handle it.  We can’t leave everyone to their suffering in order to spare ourselves a little pain of our own.”

 

“You’re right,” Emma said with a touch of guilt and a slight drag to her words. “I just don’t know what to do.”

 

“Get some sleep,” Grace said, tilting her head towards Emma’s disheveled bunk. “I promise that things won’t look so dire after a few hours rest.”

“I know you put something in my tea-” Emma smirked half-heartedly, even as her eyes started drooping closed.

 

“And yet you drank it anyway-” Grace shrugged.

 

“M’m sure you woud‘ve found some way to furce me t’ take it.”

 

She was slightly surprised by the distinct slur that her words had acquired and that she couldn’t quite keep Grace in focus.  Blearily she marvelled at the speed with which the potion had worked.

 

“I was going to slip it in your porridge if you refused the tea,” Grace said with an unapologetic shrug. “Roland was ready to hold you down if it came to that.  Turner and Regina aren’t going ashore today and there’s plenty to keep us busy.  Sleep, we’ll decide our next move when you wake.”

 

Emma winced, which turned into a slow blink, as she realized that she had been fooling no one.  Then with an almost unbelievably long, jaw cracking yawn she found that she couldn’t find it in herself to care.  Either the sleeping potion or her exhaustion had finally silenced her thoughts and she looked at her bunk with longing.

 

“Have Turner show Marty how t’go through the food stores and Ro-Roland needs to repair that loose board on the deck ‘fore someone gets hur-”

 

“Emma, go to sleep,” Grace scolded, laughing.

 

With a slow nod Emma heaved herself up from her chair and practically threw herself onto her bunk.  She barely heard Grace taking her leave before she fully succumbed to the potion and let oblivion carry her away.

 

When she woke it was to stiff muscles and quickly darkening quarters.  Wincing she slowly uncurled herself from her bunk, marvelling at how clear her thoughts were despite the cobwebs of sleep still clinging to her.  She still felt exhaustion pulling at her bones, a few hours of sleep could only put a slight dent in several nights of no sleep at all, but with her stomach rumbling loudly and the urge to finally do something beside wallow had her moving towards the galley where she knew the others would be gathering.

 

“Hail, the princess has awoken from her slumber!”

 

Emma rolled her eyes at Roland who merely grinned widely back as Marty snickered at his side.  Regina and Turner were also sitting at the table looking over what seemed to be a map of the town while Grace was busy cooking something that smelled heavenly.  She gave Emma a small smile over her shoulder before turning back to the pots in front of her.

 

“Ha, ha.  What have I missed?” She asked, her voice sleep rough, as she plopped down at the table and grabbed a pear from the massive bowl of fresh fruit at the center of the table.

 

“Not a damn thing according to young Marty here,” Roland chuckled as he clapped Marty on the shoulder. “Hasn’t stop complaining once about how boring it’s been today.”

 

Marty flushed and twisted out from under Roland’s hand, “You weren’t the one who had to go through sacks of flour looking for weevels or sort out the rotten fruit or try to rid the hold of rats all day were you?  Bloody busy work it was.”

 

She bit back a smile as the others around the table rolled their eyes, clearly having heard his grumbling all day.  It was also painfully clear they were trying to avoid asking her why she had spiralled out of control after months of holding herself together under seemingly worse circumstances.

 

“On this or any ship you do as the captain orders and keeping our stores fresh and free of rot and pests is just as essential as a repairing a sail or swabbing the deck is in ensuring the ship will make it to the next port.  It may not seem like it but when you’re in the middle of the ocean with no food because of negligence of duty you learn very quickly how the most boring chores are often the most important,” she said seriously, almost laughing at the way Marty blushed redder before feeling bad for teasing him. “But yeah, it’s a bore.”

 

The galley erupted in surprised laughter.  Emma finally let her smile unfurl, feeling a bit more herself.

 

“I’m, uh, sorry I haven’t been focusing on why we’re here or you all for the past week,” she said apologetically, focusing on the pear she was turning round and round in her hands. “I guess everything just dropped on my shoulders at once and I handled it poorly.”

 

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

 

“You found out the guy you came all the way here for was married I’d say you handled it fine.”

 

Grace and Regina had spoken at the same time but it was Regina’s cavalier statement that drew nearly everyone’s bewildered gaze.  Grace slammed a lid down on one of the pots and spun around to glare at Regina.

 

“For someone who keeps harping on about how much you want to change I fail to see you actually making an attempt to do so.”

 

“For someone who has said barely two words to me and pointedly leaves a room when I enter you seem to have already have a iron clad opinion of me,” Regina snapped back.

 

“I don’t need to spend any more than a minute with you to know that you’re only helping us so that we won’t immediately imprison you once we make it back to Misthaven,” Grace snarled. “You may have them fooled but I for one won’t be blinded by your smoke and mirrors, you bi-”

 

“I want to go ashore!” Emma all but shouted.

 

Widened eyes settled on her, even Regina and Grace who were both breathing hard in anger.  She took a steadying breath, nervous for some unknown reason.  Going back into the town wasn’t something she had considered but somehow it felt right.  It was obviously doing her no good to isolate herself from her problems, even if it was something she was practiced in doing.  Her years of avoiding Misthaven and it’s wrathful queen the biggest instance of such tactic.

 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Turner said nervously, his eyes darting between her, Regina and Grace. “I haven’t been questioned yet but it’s only a matter of time before someone becomes suspicious as to why I’m lingering around the town.  Especially when I’ve been avoiding the main thoroughfare as much as possible.”

 

“I thought we didn’t want to risk Zelena or one of her cronies seeing you,” Regina bit out, clearly still fuming.

 

“I’m not planning on wandering around aimlessly,” Emma huffed. “You and Turner have gathered enough supplies to last us for a while.  I want to explore the docks.”

 

“What?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Are you insane?”

 

“Can I come?”

 

Only Grace had remained quiet, regarding her with a small smile of satisfaction.  Emma took it as encouragement.

 

“I may not know a lot about this realm but if you’re looking for information about a new place the docks are always the best place to find it.  I also have a feeling that my chances of running into Zelena there are almost non-existent.”

 

“And going to the docks has nothing to do with the fact that that’s where we first ran into Killian?” Roland asked with a quirk of his brow.

 

“Not entirely-” she shrugged, knowing anything else she could have said wouldn’t have been believed anyway.  She took in a short, pained breath, “He may be mar- married but he’s the only one I’m certain about that doesn’t work for Zelena.”

 

“You can’t know that,” Turner said gently. “Many of the town folk remain suspicious, no matter how short their interactions with me have been.  He could just be putting on a ruse to gain your trust and hand you over to Zelena to gain favor.  We don’t know who he is in this realm.”

 

Emma shook her head slowly.  She didn’t want to argue with him that she somehow knew that the true Killian was still somehow there, merely buried and stifled under the curse.  The way he looked at her or his need to protect her or even his jealousy was enough to convince her.  Yet she couldn’t explain her gut feeling about it without sounding off her rocker, especially with her behavior from the past week.  She knew Turner was merely being cautious and practical but she feared it would only hinder their attempts to break the curse.

 

“We won’t know who he or anyone else is if we stay cloistered here,” she said with a half shrug. “I need to see what this curse has actually done if I’m going to have any chance at breaking it.”

 

“I told you what it did,” Regina snapped, glaring at her.

 

“And I believe you-” Emma said placatingly, “but I want to see everything for myself.  I’ve only talked to Killian but if I could find Red or Pinocchio or even my father I could get a better measure on how deep the memories are buried.  The docks are as good a place as any to find them.”

 

“Ruby- er, Red runs the diner in town,” Regina said somewhat reluctantly. “It’s called Granny’s even though the woman herself is at Sunset Storybrooke.  I already told you about your cranky father and I don’t know who Pinocchio is, either from when we were in Misthaven or here so good luck finding him right away.”

 

Pressing her lips together she absorbed the new tidbits of information.  As much as she wanted to inquire further, to ask why Granny wasn’t with Red or what a diner was, she knew that Regina had already told her everything she cared to know.  It wasn’t in her to be concerned with anything  or anyone that didn’t directly affect her.

 

Emma was even more convinced than before that the docks were the best place for her to start.  Like her Pinocchio had been a sailor practically longer than he had done anything else in his life.  Red also had an affinity and draw to the sea that could be strong enough to make itself known even under the curse.  If she happened to run into Killian first all the better.

 

“Don’t you think it would be rather odd if the lot of us are snooping around the docks?” Turner asked wryly.

 

“Um, no-” Emma hesitated, knowing that her next statement would cause an even larger uproar than her desire to go to the docks. “I’ll be going, alone.”

 

As she predicted the galley erupted into a cacophony of angry shouting from everyone.  Even Grace wasn’t staying quiet, berating her while she waved a spoon at her.  From what she could discern from the din only Turner, Regina, and Grace were upset that she wanted to go alone while Roland and Marty were yelling about potentially being left behind on the Jewel again.  She waited calmly as they quieted one by one until only Marty was complaining with a voice still cracking with adolescence.

 

“It’s not fair!  The whole reason I left was so that I could do things not to still be treated like a bloody kid!”

 

Marty flushed a bright red when he realized he was the only one still yelling.  Emma waited to see if anyone would immediately begin berating her again but when no one did she took a deep breath.

 

“Turner’s right.  It’ll look suspicious if more than one of us is looking around the docks, especially when we will probably all still stick out like sore thumbs no matter how well Regina outfits us.”

 

“Then let someone go with you,” Roland growled impatiently. “Even if it’s Regina.  You shouldn’t go alone.”

 

“I’ll need Regina to be in town to head off Zelena or anyone that will report back to her right away,” Emma said in what she hoped was a calm and logical tone.  In truth she was wildly piecing together a plan as she spoke. “The rest of you need to prepare the Jewel to sail.  I want to be ready to make our presence known when Zelena finally discovers I’m in town.”

 

“I thought you were just planning to look around the docks, not cause a disturbance,” Regina said with an arched brow.

 

“You’re the one who keeps saying that I’m practically asking for Zelena to find out we’re here-” Emma pointed out. “I’ve had years of practice avoiding notice when I want to but I’ve always had a backup plan for when things go wrong.  Eventually it’ll happen and I’d like to be prepared.  Which means I need you, Turner, to remain on the ship to make sure everything gets done right and for the rest of you to help him.”

 

“I don’t like you going alone,” Grace said with a frown.

 

“I’ve been at far worse ports than what I’ve seen here.  There isn’t even a tavern by the water to keep the sailors nearby,” Emma huffed indignantly, hoping her cavalier attitude would persuade them.

 

“She’s right,” Regina said begrudgingly. “The docks aren’t exactly the worst place for her to be alone.  It’s mostly fishermen and the people who work at the cannery that are down there and I haven’t seen Zelena set foot there once since the curse dropped us here.”

 

“I can’t believe we’re considering this,” Roland said incredulously.  His gaze flicked between Grace and Regina before looking at Turner, “Please tell me you have an argument against this madness.”

 

“I don’t...” A light blush formed high on Turner’s cheeks. “Not without admitting that I’ve been doing exactly what Emma’s proposing every time I step foot in that town.  I’m here because Killian is not only my prince but he’s also family.  I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of him in all the time I’ve been off this ship.  She’s seen him twice and quite by accident both times.  I believe she’ll find him again and discover what she needs to know.”

 

“Grace?” He turned to her with desperation.

 

“I’m sorry Roland, but I agree with Turner,” Grace said apologetically. “Emma is destined to break this curse.  We need to give her the chance to do so.”

 

Emma gave her a wan smile as she clamped her hands together.  They had begun to tremble when Turner had supported her and increased to a steady shake with Grace’s declaration.  She saw Regina looking at her suspiciously and tightened her grip.

 

“I’ll take her to the docks before heading into town,” Regina said, still looking at her closely for a moment before turning to Roland. “Explain a few things, make sure no one close to Zelena happens to be there-”

 

“And if they are?” Roland asked grumpily.

 

“Then we’ll wait until they aren’t but I’m not coming back to this ship until I get a chance to look around,” Emma answered stubbornly, unwilling to let him talk her back from her decision in any way.  With a deep sigh she unclasped her hands and grabbed his hand, “I know this seems like a stupid move that will just end up with me caught in Zelena’s claws but I have to do something.  I promise I won’t go running off like I did that first day.  I know a little bit more about what we’re dealing with here.”

 

“I hope you do,” he grumbled.

 

Grace quickly began serving up their supper as they hesitantly returned to the ongoing conversation they’d been having about the strange carriages that Regina called cars.  It was easy to tell that it was a half-hearted discussion on everyone’s part, merely eager to keep the peace.  Only it seemed that Marty was still angry about how the previous conversation had gone, sulking until he stormed out of the galley with his food as soon as Grace placed it in front of him.

 

Emma knew that nothing short of allowing him to go ashore would satisfy him but it was a risk she wouldn’t yet allow.  With a quick glance around the table she could feel that everyone agreed with her on that at least.

 

The rest of the evening passed without any further incident.  Marty returned sullen but resigned and joined in on the questions they were all peppering Regina with about how exactly an engine worked.  Not long after Regina rebuffed them with a frustrated growl about not being something called a mechanic Emma returned to her quarters.  Even though she had slept the day away she was still exhausted.  As soon as she laid down in her bunk she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

The next morning Emma was abruptly awoken by a loud banging sound.  She quickly grabbed one of her hidden knives and leapt to her feet, ready to defend herself.  It was a bleary and confused moment before she realized it wasn’t another pirate looking to pillage her ship but Roland sitting casually behind her desk, feet propped up on its surface.  To her dismay she realized that he was holding the piece of parchment she had tiredly written down her concerns and muddled thoughts about Killian.  With a sigh she lowered the arm holding her knife and plopped back down on her bunk.

 

“I hope you’ll believe me when I say he’s not the only reason I want to start at the docks,” she said with a yawn, brushing her hair back from her face. “There’s every chance that Pinocchio is there too or Red or maybe one of the dwarves.  I could even talk to your father or Little John.”

 

“Don’t,” Roland bit out as he dropped his feet to the floor and crushed the parchment in his fist. “This isn’t a joking matter, Emma.  My father looked right through me and Killian seems to see nothing but you.  It’s never been more obvious that you’re the one that’s going to break this curse and you still don’t believe it.”

 

“I believe-”

 

“Not enough,” Roland said vehemently.  He frowned and shook his head sadly, “I didn’t come here to make you feel guilty or try and convince you to let me come with you.  Even if would be better for everyone if I did.  I just wanted to remind you that there’s more at stake here than Killian.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?  It’s all anyone seems to be reminding me of lately,” Emma said angrily. “I’m sorry Robin didn’t recognize you and I’m sorry you seem to think I’m only concerned about my happy ending instead of my entire kingdom that’s been condemned to this town.  Forgive me for letting the pressure of all of it get to me at such an inconvenient time.”

 

“Emma I didn’t-”

 

“I think you need to leave now,” she said, cutting him off as effectively as he had done to her only moments before.  She pointed to the door with the knife, “I’ll be sure to give your father my warm regards.”

 

Roland gaped at her as though she had slapped him.  She almost wished she had even as he left her quarters without another word or a single glance back.  It took several deep breaths and a swig of rum before she was ready to face the day ahead.

 

Still fuming slightly she first tried on the clothes Regina had unceremoniously shoved in her arms the night before.  Emma put them on but quickly realized that even if she looked the part the stiff, heavy, and somewhat itchy canvas the pants were made from had her moving as though they were made from pins and needles instead.  She quickly took everything off and donned her own shirt, soft dark leather breeches and boots.  As a concession to what Regina expected of her and the bite of the oncoming winter in the air she pulled a thick knitted cream colored sweater over her shirt and grabbed the deep red woolen overcoat she’d pilfered early on from the multitude of clothing Turner had brought back from his forays into town.

 

Before leaving her quarters she packed a satchel with what she thought she might need while onshore.  Along with a knife, an ordinary compass, a skein of water and a flask of rum she added the crumpled piece of parchment Roland had left on her desk and the journal she had been writing her letters to Killian in.  She knew they were essentially useless if she found herself in a tight spot but she felt a comfort in knowing they would be by her side.  Slinging the satchel over her shoulder she made her way to the galley.

 

Unsurprisingly it was nearly empty.  Regina was seated at the table sipping on coffee, her dark eyes tracking her closely as she crossed the galley.  Emma ignored her as she poured the remnants of the pot into a battered tin cup, the last of her anger at Roland dissipating as she watched the steam curl away from the surface.  It was only when Regina brushed past her to take care of her dishes that she realized she had let her mind wander through inconsequential thoughts.  As a result her coffee was lukewarm and she didn’t have any time to savor it as Regina moved past her again and out of the galley.

 

When she emerged on deck minutes later she was disappointed to see that only Turner was there to see them off.  Emma figured that Roland and Marty were avoiding her completely and had anticipated not seeing them but she thought at least Grace would be there as well.  She had hoped that in working together Grace’s animosity towards Regina would have abated somewhat.  It was clear by only the three of them standing on deck that her hopes were nothing but childish wishes.

 

“Better get a move on,” Turner said with a nod towards the port side of the ship where the rope ladder leading down to the rowboat was situated.

 

“We’ve already missed the fishermen that leave before dawn,” Regina huffed even though she was clearly grateful Emma hadn’t insisted on being at the docks at that time. “We should get there in time to see the cannery workers file in.  If you’re ready to go that is.”

 

“I’m ready if you are,” she answered with a roll of her eyes.

 

Regina pursed her lips but stayed quiet as she climbed over the rail and disappeared down the side of the ship.  Emma crossed the deck to follow only to be stopped by Turner lightly grasping her elbow.

 

“Be careful.”

 

She turned to brush of his concern but stopped short when she saw the worry in his eyes.

 

“Is there something I should know?” She asked in a low voice she knew wouldn’t carry.

 

“Nothing I can prove, Captain,” Turner answered just as quietly, slipping into the speech pattern of a sailor giving a report. “Just that when we reach the town’s borders we go our separate ways and not once have I seen her throughout our day until it is time to return to the ship.  I don’t know what she’s been doing and we don’t truly know where her loyalties lie.”

 

“I see,” she said with a frown.  Looking at the top of the rope ladder she considered his warning, “Thank you, Turner, but I chose to trust her and I’m going to hold on to that.  She could have ratted us out any of the times you two were onshore but she didn’t.”

 

Turner looked as though he was about to argue and Emma cut him off.

 

“She’s the only one we can safely talk to about this town and the curse.  I’ll keep an eye on her today but I have to believe she wants to help us.”

 

“Right,” he said shortly, standing at attention as though she’d given him an order to follow.

 

“I will be careful, though,” she said softly, giving him a small smile as he relaxed slightly. “I do have a request of you while I’m gone.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Talk to Roland?” She tried not to smile wider at the blush that quickly stained his cheeks and mostly succeeded. “Right now he’s angry at me over this but I know it’s something more.  He won’t talk to me but he needs to talk to someone or things could get out of hand.”

 

“Of course,” Turner said with a nod, the redness fading. “And what about Marty?”

 

“I think Grace will have that one handled.”

 

Turner was still laughing as Emma descended the ladder into the rowboat.  Regina gave her an exasperated look once she was settled.  She didn’t mind it, not when she was on her way to finding out exactly how far she’d have to dig to find the real people underneath the curse.  With a smug look of her own she handed the oars to Regina, only slightly exaggerating the weakness of her injured shoulder as she untied the rope that moored the rowboat to the ship.

 

They made it to shore with only a small amount of complaining from Regina and a good distance away from the piece of driftwood Turner had been dragging the rowboat up to.  Emma knew better than to tease Regina about her sense of direction but couldn’t help wondering if the trip back to the ship would take three times as long just trying to stay on course.  After a few minutes of dragging the boat behind them in the shallows and then up to the piece of driftwood Emma noticed that Regina was almost too quiet.  When she looked up to see why Regina looked away quickly and waved her hand toward the path leading up the cliffside.

 

“We have to hurry now if we want to see the workers going in.”

 

“After you,” Emma said with a tilt of her head, content with following if only to try and suss out what had Regina watching her so closely.

 

It wasn’t until they could see the harbor with its gently bobbing ships and a few workers milling about laid out below them that Regina cleared her throat in an unconvincing attempt at casualness.  She paused turning to look back at her with a calculating look.  Emma pushed forward, unwilling to let whatever it was that Regina felt she needed to say hold her back.

 

“How long?”

 

“How long what?” She asked back as she stepped onto the pathway that she vaguely remembered walking her first night in town.

 

“The tremors in your hands.  How long?”

 

Emma almost stopped short in shock, only barely managing to keep walking in her own attempt at casual engagement in the conversation.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shrugged, willing her hands to stay steady for once.

 

“Last night wasn’t the first time I noticed it.  I’m surprised it hasn’t been brought up before, then again your motley crew isn’t very observant,” Regina scoffed.

 

“Do we really need to talk about this now?” Emma asked annoyed and slightly afraid that Regina knew exactly what was happening to her.

 

“We’re alone, relatively, and that mother hen Grace wouldn’t hesitate to gag me if she thought I was upsetting you.  Which, by the way, I don’t know what I did to her but can’t she just move on?  The rest of those idiots have,” Regina said with an imperious wave of her hand.

 

“You know for someone so willing to move on from the past you keep acting like a royal pain in the ass,” she snapped back.  As much as she was glad they weren’t discussing her shaking hands she wasn’t thrilled by the change in topic, “You’re not doing yourself any favors by acting all high and mighty now that you’re out from under your sister’s thumb.”

 

“Well that’s where you’re wrong, princess,” Regina said with a sneer. “You’re just as much under her thumb as I still am.  I mean, you’re hiding out on a ship even though you know you’re the only one who can break this curse.”

 

“Watch it, Regina,” Emma growled lowly, aware that they were closing in on the docks. “I was recovering from you stabbing me, in case you forgot.”

 

“Moping more like it.  It wasn’t your shoulder holding you back but your damn fragile emotions.  Too worried that maybe you weren’t strong enough, in love enough, to do what needs to be done.  Hate to break it to you, Savior, but where we’re from prophecies always come to pass.”

 

Emma stopped walking, ready to refute everything Regina had said but the words died on her tongue when she saw the expression on her face.  It was one of triumph.

 

“There it is, the shaking you think no one sees.  Too bad you can’t hide it when you don’t even notice it yourself.”

 

She looked down and sure enough her hands were shaking, almost too slight to be noticed but they were.  Balling her them into fists she shoved them into the pockets of her coat.  Before she could come up with any kind of explanation a curious male voice interrupted them.

 

“Is there a problem here ladies?”

 

Turning slowly, Emma dreaded looking at the speaker.  Roland’s look of hurt at her last barb flashed through her mind as her eyes settled on his father.  Robin was watching them with careful interest, his eyes only flitting to her for a moment before settling back on Regina.  He looked cleaner in a way, his hair shorter than she remembered making it seem a darker brown than she was used to.  He was wearing a quilted olive green coat over a dark blue shirt with a small red scarf wrapped around his neck.  Clipped to waistband of his dark brown pants was a small, shiny gold shield,a symbol of his status in the town.

 

“We’re perfectly fine, Archer,” Regina said cooly.

 

“Didn’t seem so to me or the few people who could hear you arguing,” Robin said slightly amused, hitching of his thumb over his shoulder where a few people had gathered to watch. He turned to her and she could feel her face getting warm, “Now, I pride myself in knowing the goings on in town and I haven’t heard anything about someone as lovely as you paying a visit.  I’m Ren Archer, deputy here in our lovely little hamlet Storybrooke and I’d like to officially welcome you…”

 

She knew he was waiting for her to introduce herself but she hadn’t anticipated talking to anyone let alone come up with an alias.  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Regina stiffen in panic.

 

“Eva,” she said quickly, noticing his brow begin to furrow.  She ignored Regina gaping at her in surprise as she held out a steady hand for Robin to shake, “Nice to meet you.”

 

“I assure you the pleasure is all mine,” he said with a cheeky grin she recognized.  He turned to Regina the smile slipping into seriousness, “The Mayor would like to see you Ms. Mills.”

 

“I’ve left the cabin and I haven’t done anything that would warrant a meeting with that woman,” Regina said disdainfully.

 

“Nevertheless she wants to meet with you,” Robin said with an amused chuckle.  He looked back at her, “Alas that means you’ll have to finish your little tiff later and that you’ll be without company for the time being.  If you’re willing to wait I’d be more than happy to return after I drop Ms. Mills here off at city hall.”

 

“That won’t be necessary Deputy.”

 

It was Emma’s turn to stiffen in panic.  The voice had come from behind her and the one thought that rose above the sudden cacophony in her mind was that Killian would always catch her unawares.

 

He stepped up next her her and flung his left arm over her shoulders.  She hissed involuntarily at the press of his chest on her injury.  Before he could pull away or even react to her distress she pressed down on his foot with her own to warn him not to.

 

“And how do you know Jones, Eva?” Robin asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

 

“She was a classmate of my brother’s at uni if you’d really like to know,” Killian answered quickly, a sharp edge to his voice.  He dropped his arm from her shoulders and took a step towards Robin, “As soon as she found out about his murder she offered her prodigious skills as a private eye to help me.  Seeing as how the good sheriff’s office hasn’t done a thing about it and all.”

 

Robin paled as he glanced around at the crowd that had gathered.  Emma could see Regina trying to edge closer to her but Killian was between them twirling his hook in a clear sign for her to go along with his lies.

 

“I told Kieran that I wanted to take a walk around town,” she said slowly.  Killian tapped his hook on his leg twice with a slight quirk of his lips, a hint she was on the right track, “I got a little turned around and, um, ended up here where Regina found me.  She was trying to explain how to get back to, er, Granny’s Diner and I didn’t want to listen.”

 

“Brilliant but stubborn-” Killian gave her an approving smile before turning back to Robin. “Now if you’ll excuse us Archer I think you have a town nut to deliver to the witch in her castle.”

 

Killian placed his hook at her lower back and led her away from a sputtering Regina and a puzzled Robin.  Emma didn’t dare look back to see what was happening with Regina or at Killian, instead she focused on where Killian was taking her not wanting to actually get lost in the town.

 

“Eva, lass?  I could have sworn your name was Emma,” Killian said conversationally once they away from the crowds at the docks. “I also could have sworn that you were uninjured when I last saw you.  Busy week?”

 

“Not particularly,” she murmured with a shrug of her good shoulder.

 

“Ah, still going to play it coy.  I respect that.  So, which is it Eva or Emma?”

 

“Which do you prefer?”

 

Killian hummed as he kicked a stone down the roadway, “Are those my only choices?  Not Emily or Evangeline or Edith?”

 

“Emma will do,” she said with a reluctant chuckle. “Eva was my grandmother.”

 

“Lovely name but I’ll admit I do prefer Emma-” he leaned over to make sure she looked directly at him.  When she finally did he smirked with a wink, “It’s what I’ve using when I think of you.  Which has been quite often since I last saw you.”

 

Despite all her thoughts and promises that she could handle herself Emma found that she couldn’t fathom trying to hold a full conversation with the practical stranger beside her.  She silently cursed her weakness around Killian but resolved to find Red or Pinocchio before the day was out.

 

“Thanks for getting me out of that mess with Ro- er, Archer but I think I’ll be fine on my own now.”

 

“Bad form, lass, leaving a man hanging when I fully intended on giving you that tour of the town,” he said with a mock pout, leaning against a shiny black car with a golden image of a bird in flight on its front.

 

“I need to find Regina,” she said hesitantly, looking back towards the way they had come.

 

“If Zelena truly wanted to see her it’ll be at least an hour before she’s free to be found-” Killian crossed his arms over his chest with a smug look. “Give me at least that long to convince you I can be of some kind of service to you.”

 

Finally Emma took the chance and looked directly at him.  He was wearing almost all black, from his leather coat to his heavy boots.  The only color on him was the midnight blue patterned shirt he had on under a black silk waistcoat and the glinting silver of his hook.  The darkness of his clothes only accentuated the bright blue of his eyes, which were following her every tiny move with careful attention.  She could see an eagerness for her to say yes in their depths and that decided it for her.

 

“I want to go to Granny’s Diner,” she declared, enjoying the way his eyes widened in surprise at her sudden change of heart.

 

“Best onion rings in Maine, lass, good choice.”

 

He gave her another wink as he dug into his pocket, pulling out a jingling mass of metal.  She realized it was a set of keys when he inserted one of them into the door of the car he had been leaning on.

 

Emma looked back towards the docks once more.  There were only a few of people walking about, no one she recognized with both Regina and Robin gone.  A creaking sound had her turning back to Killian and she saw he had circled to the opposite side of the car and had opened the door.

 

“Shall we sail away then?”

 

With a nod she walked around the car towards him, hoping with all her might that she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit it has been very hard to find motivation to write when the inspiration is no longer on tv every week. Luckily the reader Atruthuniversally read through both A Crown and A Captain and what's posted for this story and left encouraging and inspiring reviews on almost every chapter. Also it was much easier to write once I figured out exactly how Emma would bump into Killian again and get them to stay together. I promise I'm still working on this story even when I'm not physically writing it so I hope you, lovely readers, don't give up on me quite yet.
> 
> Next: A car ride, a meal, and some more familiar faces.


	12. Crash Into Me

“She’s a marvel, isn’t she lass?”

 

Emma flicked her gaze to Killian for only a moment before it was drawn back to everything around her.  It was easier to let herself be awed by the speed at which the scenery whizzed by or the unnatural glow of the helm in front of them than to try and converse with the man beside her.

 

The car sounded like an animal, even from the inside, as it roared down the roadway.  In all the questions they’d asked Regina about the vessels none of them had thought to ask what it was like to travel in one.  Emma didn’t exactly understand what made it move but she could still sense that Killian handled it as well as he captained a ship.  It also seemed he hadn’t allowed the loss of his hand to hinder him in any way.  She didn’t dare observe him long enough to find out.

 

“Restored her myself,” Killian continued, a proud lilt to his voice. “Hard to find the parts for a ‘74 Firebird in the middle of nowhere Maine but the Jolly’s well worth it.  That’s what I named her, Jolly, from-”

 

“It’s a pirate ship,” Emma blurted out, amused despite herself.

 

The Jolly Roger was a famed ship in their realm but had been sunk by the Dark One over two hundred years before.  She looked over at Killian to see if there was any spark of recognition at all and found him beaming at her.

 

“Fan of Captain Hook are you?” He asked gleefully with an arch of his brow.  His hook tapped the helm sharply, “I hope you weren’t fooled by the waxed mustache and permed buffoon of the Disney ilk, lass.  The man Barrie described is a far more dashing rapscallion if I do say so myself.”

 

Emma hummed noncommittally as she once more looked out at the passing scenery.  She didn’t know what a disney or a perm was and suspected that Barrie was some kind of writer but she didn’t want to expose her ignorance by commenting about it.  The last thing she wanted was Killian thinking she was a simpleton.

 

“Now,” he said easily, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen between them, “Should I ask you about your seeming vendetta against Mayor Viridans or where you’ve been this past week?  How about that injured shoulder or how you found yourself in the company of the town pariah?  Or we could start easier and you can tell me where you’re from.”

 

“I’m from nowhere special,” she said with a huff, trying to quell the panic his questions had stirred.

 

“Well, that could mean one of two things: either you’re from a small somewhere that even I couldn’t find on a map or it’s exactly as you say, nowhere,” he said thoughtfully, hook tapping a disjointed rhythm on the helm. “Caught up in the system were you?  Would explain the ability to disappear and reappear as you do, your hesitance around me, might also explain some of your ire towards Viridans.”

 

“And you’ve figured me out so easily?” Emma grumbled, risking looking at him again.

 

“You’re something of an open book, lass,” he said with a careless shrug.

 

“Am I?” She asked, uneasily.

 

“Quite-” he flashed her a halfhearted grin. “You’ve got that look in your eye of someone that’s been left alone, orphaned.  Abandoned.  I know it well.”

 

“What about your brother?” Emma asked before she could stop herself.

 

Killian stiffened, his knuckles going white with the fierceness of his grip on the helm.  She hadn’t intended to bring up the brother he had mentioned to Robin but she was intensely curious how that part of his life had been changed.  It also served as a way to pull the focus away from herself for the time being.

 

“And here I thought I’d managed to avoid this conversation altogether,” he said with a forced laugh. The tapping of his hook became almost erratic, “It’s not an especially winsome tale, lass.  I’d hate to scare you off.”

 

“You won’t,” Emma said quietly, aching to touch him and soothe away the pain she could both see and hear.

 

“My brother was a stubborn ass who got himself killed because he crossed the wrong people,” Killian growled. “We weren’t close and at each other’s throats more often than not but he was blood.  I promised myself I’d bring his killers to justice one way or another.”

 

“Is that why you were upset with Archer?” Emma asked, remembering the animosity Killian had shown towards Robin.

 

“I have every right to be upset when the sheriff’s office is firmly in the pocket of the one who ordered my brother to be killed,” he spat out angrily, almost loud enough to drown out the roar of the car.

 

“What was his name?” She asked softly, taken aback by his rage but not afraid of it.

 

“Thomas, but everyone called him Tommy.”

 

Emma dug her nails into her thigh but kept any other physical reaction from showing.  It was awful enough that Zelena had stripped everything from him but that she had further twisted his already painful memories of Thompson’s death was too much.  She struggled to keep her breathing even, not wanting Killian to sense her distress and think that he was the cause.

 

“You may not have been close but I can tell that you loved him very much,” she murmured once she was certain her voice would remain steady.

 

“And it’s brought me nothing but misery,” Killian said gruffly.  He brought them to a rough stop and pointed out past her shoulder, “Granny’s Diner as requested.”

 

Looking out to where he pointed Emma saw a somewhat tall stone building with tables out front hedged in by a small green fence.  Through the large windows could see a few people sitting inside.  As she watched two people walked out and she caught a glimpse of even more people sitting at a bar top.  It looked similar to a tavern but much cleaner and without the rabble that was usually found in them.  She turned back to Killian and was somewhat shocked to see that he wasn’t watching her as he had been every other moment he had been free to.

 

“Are you- are you not joining me?”

 

He barely spared her a glance, “I never said that I would.”

 

“Oh.  Right.”

 

Emma could feel the heat of a blush at her assumption and the realization that she had stumbled upon a deep wound of his.  It only grew hotter as she realized she had no idea how to escape from the car.  She hesitantly reached toward one of the few metal attachments on the door when Killian’s arm reached across her and pulled at the one slightly above it.  The door clicked open and she could feel the cool morning air seeping in.

 

“Thank you,” she said embarrassed, pushing the door open further.

 

“These older models are a bit tricky,” Killian said with an odd tone.

 

She looked back and saw that he was watching her again.  He quickly turned forward, the corner of his mouth twitching towards a frown.

 

“I-” stopping short Emma shook her head and stepped out onto the walkway.  She bent down to look back into the car, “I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Jones.”

 

“Quite,” he said succinctly, his gaze focused ahead of him.

 

With a sigh she shut the door, stepping back quickly when he sent the car shooting forward almost immediately.  She watched him disappear around a corner with a squeal and silently berated herself for sticking her foot in her mouth, no matter how inadvertent it had been.  Her only hope was that he would seek her out again, if only to get the answers the questions that she had so far avoided answering.

 

The sound of tinkling bell had her turning back to the building where a couple was laughing together as they left.  Emma looked curiously at the impossibly bright, glowing signs proclaiming all manner of things but the one posted above the door clearly showed that despite Killian’s irritation at her he had brought her to the right place.  Gathering up her courage she walked under the words ‘Granny’s Diner’ and stepped up to let herself into the establishment.

 

She stopped just inside the door to take in her new surroundings when she realized several things at once: the smells of several different foods wafting together was nearly overwhelming, it was far too warm without a hearth or stove in sight, and nearly every person she saw was someone she recognized.  Two of the dwarves, Grumpy and Sleepy, were sitting at opposite ends of the bar, Little John was scowling over a bowl of porridge at a tiny two person table, her mother’s loyal knight Lancelot was sitting alone at a large table in the corner reading a book, and King Thomas and Princess Ella’s daughter Princess Charlotte was weaving between them all serving food and taking orders.  Then, pushing out of a swinging door leading to the back, Emma saw Red and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out or simply launching herself into her arms.

 

Red was wearing the same clothing as Charlotte was, severely shortened red pants and a crisp white buttoned shirt, but with a dark burgundy knitted sweater worn open over it.  Her lips were painted a red, not dissimilar to the pants she had on, her long brown hair was pulled back into a severe, twisted coil at the back of her head and there were red rimmed spectacles perched on her nose.  Altogether it made her appear as though she was trying to look youthful but maturity had snuck upon her anyway.

 

“Are you staying or are you going girly?  I ain’t paying the bill to heat up half of Main Street,” Red barked at her.

 

“Sorry,” Emma said meekly as she stepped fully into the room, aware that all eyes had turned to her.

 

“Sit wherever you like,” Charlotte said with a wave of her hand.  She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Just not near Leroy, he’s a big crank when he hasn’t had his third cup of coffee yet.”

 

“I heard that, sister,” Grumpy growled, not looking up from his plate of rashers.

 

“See?” Charlotte giggled. “Go on, I’ll bring you a menu.”

 

Emma walked in a daze to a table near the back.  She eyed the fixed bench seats with apprehension before sitting on the side facing the door, not wanting to be caught by surprise by another familiar face.  Charlotte approached with an overly large shiny pamphlet in her hands just as she was trying to figure out what the stiff cushion at her back was made of with her elbow.

 

“We serve the whole menu all day if you’re not feeling in a breakfast-y food kind of mood.  We are out of the chicken fried steak until later so sorry ‘bout that,” Charlotte said as she placed the pamphlet in front of her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

 

“Uh-” Emma looked down at the pamphlet quickly and saw only amazingly realistic drawings of bizarre looking food drawn across it.  She balked and asked for something that nearly every tavern had for their morning patrons, “Tea?”

 

“Sure,” Charlotte said with a nod, “Iced or hot?”

 

“Er, hot?” she asked confused even further by the other option.

 

“Cool.  I’ll be back with that in a jiff.  Oh, my name’s Becca if you need anything!”

 

“Thank you,” Emma mumbled.

 

She surreptitiously glanced around the room and was relieved that no one was paying her any mind.  There were a few other people that she didn’t recognize, her gaze sliding over them as though they weren’t there at all.  As much as she tried not to she found herself watching Red as she moved to and fro behind the bar.  Gone was the lupine grace Emma had always envied and instead she was limping slightly, as though she was favoring one leg over the other.  Also missing was her ever present smile, replaced instead by a grim frown.

 

“Here ya’ go,” Charlotte said, blocking her view as she placed a mug of hot water, a small, open box of paper sachets and a saucer with two slices of lemon and a container of what looked to be honey in front of her. “Ready to order?”

 

Emma quickly looked down at the menu.  She was perplexed by the various offerings: things called burgers, lasagna, omelettes and the pictures were of no help.  Thinking back to what she’d seen Little John eating she was about to order a porridge for herself when someone slid onto the bench across from her.  Looking up she couldn’t help but scowl at the fact that Killian had once again caught her unawares, this time with a grin on his face.

 

“Two grilled cheese, fries for me and onion rings for her.  Didn’t order a drink for me lass?” Killian asked with a mock pout.  He winked at her before turning to Charlotte, his grin back in place, “A coffee for me, darling, and I want it from the pot crotchety ol’ Lucas makes for herself, not the swill she serves the rest of us.”

 

“Um, okay,” Charlotte mumbled looking wide-eyed and pale.

 

“Hook, stop terrorizing my waitress,” Red growled out from behind the bar, glaring at him.

 

“Apologies, Lady Lucas,” Killian drawled.

 

He casually draped his arms across the back of his bench, clearly sensing there was no bite behind Red’s bark.  Charlotte skittered away without another word.  Emma was left seething and Killian’s cavalier grin just angered her more.

 

“I can order for myself,” she hissed, leaning towards him so her voice wouldn’t carry.

 

“Undoubtedly,” he remarked with a shrug. “But I wager you were going to order something other than onion rings and I already told you they’re the best in the state.”

 

“You scared off the wai-waitress,” Emma said, stumbling over the unfamiliar word but letting her annoyance push her through any embarrassment.

 

“The girl could use a dose of fear now and then.  From what I understand she has a bit of a rebellious streak,” Killian whispered conspiratorially, dropping his arms to the table and leaning towards her. “I’d bet you had quite the rebellious streak yourself, lass.”

 

“You left,” she said instead of responding to his taunt.

 

“I-” Killian stopped short, his grin slipping off his face.  He sat back and blew out a breath, “Poor form that when you’re such a babe in the woods.”

 

“Excuse me!” Emma snapped indignantly

 

“Don’t misunderstand me lass and just listen to what I have to say for the moment.”

 

Emma gave him a terse nod and sat back as well, keeping a wary eye on him.  He seemed almost surprised she agreed so quickly as his eyes widened and he scratched at the back of his neck with his hook.  With the movement she realized that he wasn’t wearing his coat and wondered if perhaps she should take off hers as well.  Then she noticed that his right cuff was undone and his shirtsleeve was pushed back enough to show the dark markings of a tattoo, one that definitely hadn’t been there when he’d been taken from their realm.  She was staring at it curiously when he cleared his throat.

 

“How about a proposal, lass?”

 

She tried not to blush at his turn of phrase, steadying herself before answering with narrowed eyes.

 

“What?”

 

“An answer for an answer,” he said easily, his hook fiddling with the opposite sleeve.  He paused as Charlotte brought his coffee and then left them again, his eyes never leaving her, “You know I have questions for you and I’m sure you have some of your own.  I propose that we ask our respective questions but for every answer not given the other is afforded the same courtesy.  Sound fair?”

 

It sounded more than fair to her.  She was being given the opportunity to not only find out about his cursed life but to finally find out where his allegiances lied.  With her decision so quickly she set about making her tea to not seem so eager.  What she didn’t count on was trying to figure out exactly how to make her tea with the sachets instead of the loose leaf or bricks of tea she was used to.

 

“Need help?” Killian asked, laughter in his voice.

 

“I’ve got it,” she muttered as she picked one of the sachets up and cautiously peeled the paper open to reveal another smaller fine net sachet inside that held her tea.  She pulled the tea filled sachet out and dropped it in her still steaming mug, “I agree but on one condition.”   
  


“And what’s that lass?”

 

She looked up at him and made sure to catch his gaze with her own, “If I think you’re lying we’re done.  Even if you think it’s for my own good.  Understand?”

 

“Completely.  The same goes for you as well.”

 

At that moment Charlotte returned with their meals.  She quickly set down the two plates of what looked like toasted, buttery breads with browned rings of some sort on hers and golden sticks on Killians.  Emma poked dubiously at the rings.

 

“It’s food, you eat it,” Killian said in the same odd tone he’d used when he’d let her out of his car.

 

“Obviously,” she said with a roll of her eyes, picking up the bread instead.  She was surprised to see melted cheese between the slices, “Do you want to ask first or should I?”

 

Killian contemplated her as she took her first bite.  She had to stop herself from taking a second, larger one as the flavors rolled over her tongue.  As it was she was already wondering if she could convince Grace to make it for supper later that night.

 

“Where are you from?”

 

Emma coughed, the question taking her off-guard as she was swallowing.  With watering eyes she took a small sip of her tea and tried in vain to come up with a reasonable answer.

 

“Somewhere far from here,” she finally answered honestly if not completely truthful.

 

“Not quite a lie but I’ll let it slide, lass,” he tsked.

 

“How long have you lived here?” She shot back.

 

“Nigh on 15 years.  Every time I planned my escape something kept me here like an anchor around my neck.  How did you get here?”

 

“A ship,” she said with a grin, happy to give him a truthful answer.  She took another bite of her bread and cheese and spoke around her mouthful, “And yes that’s where I’ve been staying.”

 

“Not fair, lass, now you’re a question up on me,” Killian said with an exaggerated frown, grabbing four of the sticks on his plate and eating them all at once.

 

“Should I go easy on you, then?”

 

Killian raised his brow before giving her a salacious grin, “I think you’ll find I prefer a challenge.  Go on lass, ask what you’d really like to know.”

 

Emma didn’t want to risk upsetting or offending him by asking the wrong thing but her mind kept circling around to the same two questions.  It was a matter between her heart or her head but she wanted to know about his wife and needed to know about his dealings with Zelena.  She absentmindedly ate two of the rings on her plate as she contemplated what to ask before realizing it was a cooked onion that she was eating.

 

“This is the best?  It’s onions!” She half whispered, not wanting Red to think she was criticizing the food.

 

“It’s an onion ring,” Killian said with an amused chuckle.  Then his smile faded, “I have a question, lass, but I won’t go out of turn.  Ask me yours.”

 

She dropped her eyes to her plate but quickly looked back up at him.  She needed to see his eyes when she asked her question.

 

“Who ordered your brother to be killed?”

 

Killian flinched but his gaze didn’t waver, “The same woman I stopped you from attacking the last time we met.  Mayor Viridans.”

 

“How are you planning on getting your revenge?” She asked cooly, even though she wanted nothing more than to jump up and crow that she had been right all along.

 

“By any means necessary,” he growled.  Then, somehow, he focused even more intently on her, “My turn, where are you from and why are you after Viridans?”

 

Emma winced harder than Killian had and found she couldn’t keep eye contact with him as she answered only one of his questions, “She took someone from me and she has to pay.”

 

“Then it appears we’re bound together in this endeavor, lass,” Killian said solemnly.  She looked up and found he was leaning towards her again, “If you’ll have me of course.”

 

“I-” she stopped short, swallowing thickly.

 

It was her chance to be near him, to help find himself again and she couldn’t believe she was hesitating.  Then she saw the hopeful, warm look in his eyes and she remembered the other questions she’d had.  The ones regarding his wife and their life together under the curse.  Yet she couldn’t bring herself to let him down, even if it meant putting shackles on her heart.

 

“I don’t want attention drawn to me or what we’re doing,” Emma said fiercely in a low voice. “That woman has taken nearly everything from me and won’t be satisfied until she takes it all.  Understand?”

 

“Perfectly,” Killian said with a nod, his eyes darting quickly around the room and then back to her.  He opened his mouth, then closed it before seeming to argue with himself for a moment and then asked, “Why won’t you tell me where you’re from?”

 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did-” she gave him what she knew was a heartbroken smile and focused on eating more of her food.

 

He eventually followed suit and they ate in silence.  Emma worried that she’d lost whatever ground she’d made with him as she sipped her tea sullenly.  With no magic whatsoever in the town she knew any mention of portals, curses, and different realms would have him thinking she was mad and could not be trusted.  She’d rather have him suspicious of her motives than not believing her at all.

 

“One day, lass, I’ll get you to trust me,” Killian said suddenly.

 

“You think I don’t trust you?  I promise you that I trust you,” Emma said vehemently.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “There are things I can’t tell you now but I will, in time.  I just need you to trust me.”

 

She startled as she felt the warmth of his hand wrap around hers.  Opening her eyes she found him looking at her with a seriousness she had yet to see from him in his cursed life.

 

“I can’t explain it and I know we barely know each other but I do trust you.  I think I have from the moment you threw yourself at me down at the docks-” he squeezed her hand and she found it suddenly hard to breathe. “You can have your secrets for now.  I can be patient.”

 

“Thank you,” she breathed out unsteadily.  Casting about for anything to ease the tightness in her throat she once again noticed the ink stained onto Killian’s arm.  She flipped over his hand and tapped at his wrist, “What’s this?”

“A fairly recent acquisition,” he said with a gentle grin, as though sensing her need to change the subject.  He pushed his sleeve up with his hook to reveal what looked like stars arranged into a constellation she didn’t recognize along his entire forearm, “Got it on a drunken whim not long after I lost my hand.  Had no rhyme or reason for picking this constellation but I quite like it all the same.”

 

“What constellation is it?” She asked, barely able to keep herself from tracing the pattern the stars made.

 

“Cygnus-”

 

“The swan,” she said brokenly.

 

Emma felt her lower lip begin to tremble as tears gathered in her eyes.  She hastily pulled her hand out of Killian’s grasp and clenched her hands in her lap, focusing on them as she tried to get ahold of herself.  Even with his memories of her lost to the curse it was clear that some part of him still sought out a piece of her.  It took everything in her to not spill their story to him right then and there.

 

“What have you done to upset the girl Hook?”

 

Emma looked up and found Red standing at their table, glaring at Killian.  He was scowling right back but when he looked at her it was with concern in his eyes.

 

“He didn’t do anything,” Emma assured her.  Her eyes flit over Red as she tried to take in any changes their year apart had brought, “I, uh, was just reminded of something.  It had nothing to do with him.”

 

“I’d keep my distance from him if I were you,” Red warned, still glaring at Killian. “I can tell you’re new in town and probably haven’t heard that Hook here is the last person you should associate with.”

 

“Then I guess you haven’t heard that I’m here to help him find his brother’s murderer,” she snapped back, angry despite herself.  Red had been the one pushing her towards Killian in the first place and to hear her speaking so vehemently against him was too much to bear, “So unless you have something to tell me about that I think you should keep your opinions to yourself.”

 

Red trained her glare on her, nostrils flaring.  Emma glared right back.  She had spent her entire life at the receiving end of that glare for one reason or another and no longer quailed beneath it.  With a huff Red stalked away from their table leaving Emma smirking in her wake.

 

“I’m impressed!” Killian chuckled.  Looking at him she saw him smiling widely at her in awe, “There are few in this town who would stand up to Ruby Lucas and even fewer who would do it while sitting in her diner eating her food.  I’d wager you’re a bit of a rebel.”

 

“Pirate actually,” she mumbled under her breath all while grinning slightly at his praise.

 

“And seeing as how you’ve defended my honor the least I can do is offer to pay for your meal.  Of course it might also go towards making up for ordering for you in the first place.”

 

Killian’s brows lifted in amusement as he downed the rest of his coffee.  He produced a small, folding leather pouch from somewhere on his person and pulled out several green pieces of parchment, tossing them on the table.  Emma was left wondering how anyone could pay for things with something that looked as though it could easily be forged with some paint and ink when she realized Killian had gotten up from their table and was pulling his coat back on.  She stood as well, glancing around the room only to notice everyone turning quickly back to their meals or companions, acting as though they hadn’t been staring.  Only Charlotte and Red continued to watch them from their places behind the bar.

 

“Don’t go minding them now, lass,” Killian whispered from behind her. “Between your run in with the altruistic Archer and putting the gossipy Lucas in her place the whole town will have a measure on you.  Best keep up with appearances.”

 

Emma felt her stomach turn to lead.  She had broken nearly every promise she’d made when she’d proposed returning to shore.  There was almost no doubt that Zelena would not only hear about the commotion her and Regina had created at the docks but also the way she had back talked to Red when it seemed no one else had the gall to do so.  Her only hope was that she and Regina would be back on the Jewel before Zelena started sweeping through the town looking for her.

 

She let Killian lead her out the door and out on to the walkway, ignoring the feeling of being watched.  Trying not to give into paranoia she casually began walking in a direction she hoped lead away from the docks.  There weren’t many people out but she eyed them warily nonetheless, not knowing who would talk to whom about her movements through the town.  It was only a slight comfort to have Killian walking at her side.

 

“Why did she call you Hook?” Emma asked after a few moments.

 

“Ah, still going with the questions are we?” Killian said with a resigned smile. He brought his hook up, opening the pinchers twice before lowering it again, “A bit obvious that one.”

 

“No,” Emma chided, fixing him with a serious eye, “Why did she call you Hook?”

 

“I’m afraid that’s the answer you get for now, lass,” he answered, though not unkindly. “Consider it an equal for not telling me where you’re from.”

 

“Fair enough,” she said with a shrug.

 

“But that will have some answers for you.”

 

He nodded at something across the roadway.  Emma looked and saw a clocktower looming over the street.  She instantly knew it was the one Regina had said hadn’t moved until they’d arrived.  What she didn’t understand was why Killian thought it would give her answers.

 

“I don’t remember asking what time it was,” she quipped, crossing her arms looking pointedly at him and then back at the clock.

 

“It’s what’s underneath, lass,” Killian said with a roll of his eyes.

 

He strode across the roadway without waiting for her.  Emma caught up with him as he pulled open a door that was directly beneath the clock tower.  Stepping inside she found herself in a vestibule of sorts with a large metal door on one side, a waist high counter on the other and an open doorway directly ahead of her.  She could just make out what looked like shelves full of books when Killian let the door close behind him with a bang.

 

“Booth!  I’ve got something for you!”

 

From the depths of the other room a very familiar voice called back, “Dammit Hook you were supposed to be here two hours ago.  I can’t keep covering for you when-”

 

Pinocchio stepped into the room with several books under his arm looking cross when he stopped short at the sight of them.  His eyes widened and then narrowed as he took her in before crossing behind the counter and slamming the books down.  Emma for her part was beyond pleased to have found him so easily but schooled her features into a look of mild curiosity.

 

“I told you I’m done being set up by you,” Pinocchio grumbled.

 

“Ah, no,” Killian said quickly.  His ears turned red as he scratched at the back of his neck, “Eva here is looking for some answers.”

 

“Really?” Pinocchio said in disbelief.  He looked back at her with newfound appreciation, “Nice to meet you Eva.  I’m August, town librarian and amateur town historian, what can I help you with?”

 

“Uh, I guess anything you can tell me about the town to start?” she asked, looking helplessly at Killian, unprepared to talk to Pinocchio at such a moment’s notice.

 

“Particularly anything to do with how our overlord came into power,” Killian continued.  He leaned over the counter and started poking at a thin black box, “Perhaps you’ve a book or two about private detectives, true ones not your ridiculous pulp novels.  Let’s see, any county, state and federal laws concerning wrongful deaths, missing persons, and go ahead and throw in kidnapping for fun.  Also a copy of Peter Pan if you will.”

 

“Peter...” Pinocchio closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought I said I was done trying to help you with your goddamn crusade to pin Tommy’s death on Viridans, Hook.  You have no proof.”

 

“I have plenty of proof,” Killian growled.  He looked back at Emma for a moment and then took a deep breath as he faced Pinocchio again, “Eva’s here to help me finally prove it to everyone else.  The books, if you please.”

 

Pinocchio stared between the two of them, as though trying to read the truth in their eyes.  Finally he shrugged and motioned for them to follow him back the way he had entered the room.  Killian motioned for her to go before him with an encouraging nod.

 

As she entered the room that housed the library Emma had a thousand and one questions flying through her mind.  Unlike Red or Charlotte Pinocchio seemed to be a friend of sorts to Killian even though he too called him Hook.  He also moved with a quickness and ease she hadn’t seen from him since they were much younger.  It left her wondering at the encompassing power of the curse that it could completely mask his own personal curse and the pain it had constantly caused him.

 

The library was small, no more than twenty or so short rows of books.  A couple of large tables ran down the middle of the room separating one set of bookshelves from the other.  With a quick look down one of the rows Emma was shocked to see a surprising number of half filled or completely empty shelves.  She turned to make a comment about it to Killian but saw him running his fingers fondly across the spines of books on a small cart to his right.  It was a dizzying reminder of all the times she had found him idling away his hours reading in Sherwood Forest or trying to track him down in the immense ice library in Arendelle’s castle.

 

“Have a seat,” Pinocchio said, rapping one of the tables with his knuckles.

 

He darted off down a row leaving her with a chuckling Killian.

 

“How do you know him?” Emma asked as she sat.  It was one of the few questions that was relatively harmless to pose.

 

“Went to school together,” he said, shaking his head.  He gave her reassuring smile, “We didn’t really move in the same circles but Storybrooke High is small and it’s impossible not to know everyone in your class.  Don’t worry, you can trust him.”

 

“I know,” she said simply, reveling in the pleased look he gave in return.

 

“You know you can Google half this shit right?” Pinocchio grumbled as he strode out from a different row than he’d disappeared down with a few books already under his arm.

 

“Perhaps, but we prefer the hard stuff,” Killian said with a waggle of his eyebrows at her.

 

Both her and Pinocchio rolled their eyes at him.  A pang struck Emma as she remembered similar exchanges between the three of them back in their land.  Her melancholy was tempered however by the clear camaraderie Killian and Pinocchio had with each other.  If nothing else she was glad they’d had each other’s backs in some way under the curse.

 

Pinocchio set down the books he was holding and dashed away again, effectively preventing her emotions from getting the better of her.  She sat and pulled the pile of books towards her.  They appeared to be the books about the laws of the land and she wrinkled her nose at the dry sounding titles.  Killian snorted above her, clearly reading over her shoulder and being amused at her reaction to them.

 

“Not the most titillating of reads but I find it’s easier to get away with breaking the law when you know exactly which ones you’re breaking,” he boasted.  She looked up at him with narrowed eyes and he gave a shrug, “Come now lass, you know perfectly well you weren’t throwing your lot in with a saint.”

 

Emma wasn’t sure what a saint was but understood the general meaning behind the word.  She hummed something that wasn’t a complete acknowledgement that he was right and turned back to the books.  Killian chuckled and pulled out the chair next to her when a voice called out from the vestibule.

 

“Booth, come out of those dusty shelves!  I need a word!”

 

She was about to ask Killian who it was when things started moving faster than she could keep up with.  Pinocchio came running out of the stacks, haphazardly dropping all the books in his hand but one on the table before walking quickly but calmly towards the vestibule flapping his free hand at them from behind his back.  Killian had grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip when Pinocchio had run by and he was frantically tugging at her to get her attention.  When she looked at him she saw his jaw ticking in agitation and a fire in his eyes.

 

“I don’t have time to explain but I can’t be seen anywhere near here,” he said quickly and in a low voice that wouldn’t carry, “I trust August with my life, he’ll look after you.  You’ll be okay.”

 

Before she could utter a sound he snuck away leaving her behind, stunned and confused.  With a huff of annoyance she stood from the table and as quietly as she could she crossed back to the open doorway, keeping care to stay out of sight.

 

“-just couldn’t find money in the budget for a new computer.  Maybe you should focus on getting more donations next year instead.”

 

Emma recognized the voice as the one belonging to the man Walsh that had been at Regina’s cottage.  She pressed herself closer to the wall and listened all the more carefully.

 

“How magnanimous of you Sheriff to come down here to tell me this instead of having the budget committee give me a call or even send an email.  Which they did, after their meeting, yesterday.  Unless of course you’re here to do more than deliver a message I’ve already received.  Come to check on things?  Burn some books perhaps?”

 

To anybody that didn’t know him Pinocchio sounded as though he were merely annoyed, his tone mocking but Emma knew better.  They had been friends for all of her life and she could hear the scalding fury beneath his words.  She marvelled at how quickly Walsh had been able to strike a nerve in only the few minutes he had been talking to Pinocchio.

 

“As long as you aren’t checking out any of the books on the school district’s banned list to the students again you should be fine,” Walsh intoned blandly. “I just came here to let you know about the budget.”

 

She heard what sounded like a double tap of a hand on wood and hard-heeled footsteps walking away from her position.  Then they stopped.

 

“By the way, you haven’t happened to come across any visitors have you?”

 

“Visitors?” Pinocchio said so flatly it was barely a question.

 

“Yes, anyone saying they’re from out of town or-” Emma could hear the footsteps begin again, walking slowly toward her, “-someone you’ve never seen before.  Strangers if you will.”

 

“Why would they come here?  The Visitor’s Center is at City Hall.”

 

Pinocchio’s voice sounded too calm, almost rehearsed.  She cursed under her breath at the chances that even with different life in his head he still couldn’t lie.

 

“A library is a place to gather information, is it not?”

 

Walsh’s voice was close, too close.  Emma held her breath and hoped he wouldn’t take another step.

 

“Maybe ten years ago,” Pinocchio said drolly, but much less wooden. “Everyone has a phone to look up all that crap now.  The only people who come here are the old folks from Sunset Storybrooke and they’re not coming back until next week.”

 

“And you want a new computer?” Walsh’s voice became just the slightest bit quieter and Emma hoped he had turned back towards the door leading out. “Now I can see why the budget committee keeps denying you the funds.  If you see anyone you’ll let me know?”

 

“Oh, of course,” Pinocchio said snarkily.

 

The footsteps started up again, leading away from her hiding spot, “By the way the school board voted in favor of expanding the banned book list.  You’ll find that one right at the top.”

 

The sound of the front door opening and closing had her noisily releasing the breath she’d been holding.  Her head swam as black spots danced before her eyes.  When her vision cleared Pinocchio was standing in front of her frowning slightly.

 

“Am I going to end up in jail because of you?”

 

“Not if I can help it,” she promised, looking him in the eye to show how serious she was.

 

“Well then-” he sighed, rocking back on his heels, “I guess that’s as good as it’ll get.  Here, I guess it won’t matter if this isn’t on the shelves for a while.”

 

He handed her a book before brushing past her back into the library.  She watched him go, aching to talk to him as she had all her life about everything that had happened and everything that was happening.  Instead she sighed sadly and looked at the book in her hands.

  
It appeared to be a book meant for children, the illustration on the cover was colorful and it didn’t have an overabundance of pages.  The title was written with fake gold leaf on an equally fake leather cover.  Turning it over in her hands she was at a loss as to why Killian wanted her to read a book titled  _ Peter and Wendy _ .  Returning to the table the books Pinocchio had retrieved for her she resolved to ask him as much.  Whenever their paths happened to cross again that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I just needed to get those two into a car and get knocked down by the flu to get the creative juices flowing. I want to thank everyone who sent me encouraging messages about finding the muse and how they're dealing with the CS drought on our tvs. I may have watched the CS movie and the CS scenes from the season 4 finale just to get into the spirit of things.
> 
> Next: More of them working together, more meeting people under the curse, and perhaps a confrontation or two.


	13. Into the Blue Again

“Good, you’re back.  Sit here, I’ve been gathering the books Hook asked for and a few more I thought you might need.”

 

Emma sat at one of the library tables, amused by the put upon airs Pinocchio was affecting. However she could easily tell he actually reveled in being a part of her and Killian’s plot against Zelena.  She tried not to laugh when she heard him muttering to himself as he disappeared down an aisle.

 

It had been three days since Emma had last been at the library.  She hadn’t lingered long after Walsh had left, citing her excuses to Pinocchio while also assuring him that she’d return as soon as she could.  He had insisted she take  _ Peter and Wendy _ with her, not only because Killian had wanted her to read it but because it would guarantee that she would have to return to the library to bring back the book.

 

Once she had made it back out onto the roadways it had taken her a good while to make it back to the docks.  She’d not only had to find her way to the docks without knowing exactly which way Killian had brought her into the heart of the town but she’d had to avoid the major thoroughfares in order to keep her presence hidden from anyone looking for her.  It had been late afternoon by the time she had found the docks again and the sun had been dipping below the horizon behind her when she had finally returned to the cliff overlooking the Jewel.

 

Regina had been waiting for her down in the cove.  As soon as she spotted her she had launched into a ceaseless tirade against her actions, seemingly only pausing her litany long enough to draw a breath.  Emma had listened patiently, content to let Regina chastise her until she ran out of things to say.  She had been mildly impressed that Regina hadn’t let up even as they had climbed back aboard the Jewel.

 

As a result of Regina’s unending dressing down the whole ship had learned of her so called discretions before she’d even had a chance to explain herself.  Emma hadn’t been able to get a word in among the other raised voices to explain that things had gone far better than anticipated.  It had been a much bigger test of her patience to wait out the disparaging remarks and accusations that had been tossed across the deck at her from all sides.

 

Finally she had had enough and had let out a piercing whistle that had quieted them all into a begrudging silence.  Even though she had hoped to tell her tale over their evening meal she had ignored her hunger pangs and relayed the barest details of her day, if only to assuage everyone’s worries and temper their anger.

 

Exhausted from her emotionally trying day she had retired to her cabin after informing the others that Zelena was finally aware of their presence.  She had heard Regina confirming it as she had climbed down in to her quarters but had been beyond caring about what the other woman’s day had entailed.  She had been sure they were safe in their cove for the night at least and after a lackluster supper of stale bread and a paste made from something Regina had called a peanut she had gone to bed, disappointed with how her day had ended.

 

The next morning hadn’t dawned much brighter.  Roland and Marty had refused to listen to her full story when she finally told it, while Grace and Regina had interrupted at nearly every opportunity to point out where things could have gone awry.  Only Turner had listened to her without comment, even though at points he too had frowned disapprovingly at her actions.

 

To her great annoyance she had soon discovered that Grace and Regina’s sudden camaraderie had extended to keeping her from returning to shore.  Emma had gone to her cabin after telling her tale only long enough to grab her satchel and don a coat but by the time she had emerged on deck the rowboat was already being pulled onto the beach by the two women.  She had cursed a blue streak across the water at them but they had ignored her altogether.  It was only when their figures disappeared from the cliff top that she had stomped her way back down to her quarters, fuming.

 

A better shock had come around the time of the midday meal when a hesitant knock had sounded at her door.  She had wrenched it open, ready to argue with whoever was on the other side and had been surprised to find Turner holding a tray of food with a cautious smile on his face.  After she had let him into her quarters he had apologized for the behavior of the others and asked her if she would be willing to tell him more about her time in the town and especially her interactions with Killian.  Despite being taken aback by his candor she had agreed and by the end of their discussions she had felt justified in her actions once more.  Turner had even encouraged her to keep up the pretenses of trying to get revenge on Zelena with Killian in order to find something more useful than merely sneaking around the edges of town or relying on Regina’s word.

 

By the time Regina and Grace had returned to the ship in the early evening Emma’s anger at them had subsided enough that she had been able to listen to the happenings of their day with everyone else in the galley without much resentment.  Regina had scouted the town and had found that only the sheriff and his deputies were the ones looking for strangers in their town, the rest of the inhabitants either didn’t care or found the idea of tourists visiting as a sign of hope for their stagnant lives and businesses.  Emma had held her tongue, as much as she had wanted to point out that it would make moving around the town much easier.  She had known that everyone aside from Turner would have immediately shouted out how it could still be a risk.

 

Grace, on the other hand, had spent her day shadowing Zelena.  She had let them know that Zelena had left the building with the sign ‘City Hall’ out front only once to go to Granny’s Diner for her midday meal before returning and remaining there the rest of the day.  When Grace had left to return to the Jewel she had still been able to make out Zelena’s form walking around one of the upper rooms inside the building.

 

Emma hadn’t been able to hold back a self satisfied smirk that both women had failed at finding an irrefutable reason for her to stay away from the town.  She had regretted it the next morning when the rowboat was gone an hour earlier than it had been the day before.

 

Back in her sour mood she had once again holed herself up in her quarters, not wanting to deal with Roland’s glares and Marty’s sullen pouting.  It had been only an hour or so later that out of boredom and faint curiosity she had pulled out the book Pinocchio had given her.  Having nothing better to do she had settled herself down at her desk and begun to read.  The tale was one for children but she had found herself engrossed nonetheless.  It wasn’t until Turner had knocked on her door with her share of supper that she had put it down next to the parchment full of notes and scribblings she had taken alongside reading it.

 

Along with the food Turner had also brought with him a plan to get her back to shore.  In truth it was nothing more than merely sneaking off the ship during his watch.  He’d had twin spots of red high on his cheeks when he relayed that no one would suspect him of helping her because of his fastidious attention to rules and protocols.  Emma had gaped at him before sputtering out a joke about making him a true pirate that had had his whole face burning red with a sheepish smile on his face.  She had asked him to join her in that moment and wasn’t at all surprised when he’d agreed.

 

When she had drug herself half asleep out of her bunk in the hours before dawn she’d had to steel herself against the near freezing temperatures of her quarters.  Her only comfort had been her and Turner’s plan to wait for a more reasonable time to go into the town in Regina’s cottage where she knew several blankets and a fireplace awaited them.  Turner had given her a perfunctory nod when she emerged on deck before quickly and quietly making his way down to the rowboat.  Emma had followed just as quickly and within what seemed like a blink of an eye they were dragging the rowboat above the high tide line.

 

The rest of their early morning had passed uneventfully.  She had managed to sleep for an hour or two once they had built up the fire in Regina’s cottage and there had still been a few metal containers of food left in the kitchen for their breakfast.  Once they had agreed that it was time to leave they went their separate ways: Emma back to the library and Turner to continue keeping watch on Zelena.

 

“I was starting to think that our dumbass sheriff had scared you off,” Pinocchio said wryly, wheeling a metallic cart full of books towards her. “Then I thought that the smartass Hook did.  Guess I was wrong on both counts.”

 

“Guess so,” Emma said with a smirk as she pulled the strap of her satchel over her head and shrugged out of her coat. “I did promise that I would be back you know.”

 

“Promises don’t mean much when they’re continually broken,” he said matter of factly, as though he knew from past experience.  He began piling books in front of her, “But you’re here now and I’ve gathered enough books and articles to keep you busy and out of trouble for a while.”

 

“Has, uh, Hook been in?  You know, while I wasn’t?” Emma asked nonchalantly, trying to keep a blush at bay.

 

Pinocchio gave her a look that indicated he saw right through her question and said, “No, he hasn’t.  He only comes in when it suits him and that’s an irregular occurrence at best.”

 

“Oh, that’s good,” she said flippantly, ignoring the drop of her stomach and Pinocchio’s all too knowing gaze, pulling a stack of books towards her. “It’ll give me a chance to get a head start on things.”

 

“Right…” Pinocchio said in a disbelieving tone.  He set a final stack of books and fistful of looseleaf parchments in front of her, “Hook’s been working on this fool’s errand for years.  You’ll need more than a few hours here and there to get anywhere close to what he already knows.

 

“Well, that should be all of it.  I hope you don’t mind but I still have actual work to do.”

 

“No, it’s fine-” she masked her disappointment with a practiced smile, “I have enough here to keep me busy for days.”

 

“Right,” he said again, looking at her closely before giving her a tight lipped smile. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

 

She watched him walk away, annoyed that she couldn’t think of a plausible reason to keep him in the room with her so she could learn about his cursed life.  He was almost to the doorway leading to the vestibule when she noticed that he was limping slightly.  It was barely enough to notice but her heart leapt in her chest all the same.

 

“Are you hurt?” She asked, barely getting the question out in a calm manner.

 

Pinocchio turned around to look at her with a frown.  His hand ran absently along the thigh of the leg that had been wooden in their land.

 

“Woke up a couple of days ago and it was aching like I’d walked from here to Portland and back.  It’s just the one leg so I must have pulled something getting those damn books for you.”

 

“Sorry about that,” she said in what she hoped was a commiserating tone instead of an excited one.

 

“Yeah, which is why I’m going to the front desk.  It’s easier to get some kind of work done there than slowly hobbling through the stacks-” he gave her a grimace that she was sure was meant to be a smile before turning back around, throwing up his hand in a wave as he walked away from her, “Holler if you need me.”

 

With that he left her alone with only books and her thoughts for company.  Looking at the piles in front of her she sighed deeply.  She had no clear starting point, let alone an idea of what she was supposed to be looking for.  The one thing she needed to find was the only thing that she knew wouldn’t be in any of the books before her: a way to break a curse that no one would believe they were under.

 

Blowing out a frustrated breath she pulled a random book off the nearest stack and with little hope of finding anything worthwhile she began to read.

 

Nearly two hours later Emma had discarded several books and was in danger of tearing out her hair strand by strand just to relieve her boredom.  Pinocchio hadn’t once looked in on her, even though she could hear him moving about in the other room.  At one point she had decided the loose pieces of parchment were of better use to her as a place for her nonsensical drawings than for the so called information already upon them and had steadily drawn lazy waves and ships on their reverse with an odd quill she had found lying on the table.

 

Finishing off the final sail on her rendition of her beloved Brooke she blindly grabbed another book and was about to flip it open when she heard a small sound from behind her, deeper in the library.  Stilling herself she even held her breath as she listened carefully to the sounds around her.  She could hear an arrhythmic tapping and the occasional creak of whatever chair Pinocchio was occupying from the other room.  Then she heard the sound from behind her again and realized it was the attempt of someone to keep their footsteps muted.  Tensing herself for a confrontation with whomever it was she relaxed just as suddenly when she heard them utter a muffled curse and turned back to the table in front of her.

 

“For someone who once berated me about being sneaky you’re absolutely terrible at it yourself.”

 

A second, louder, curse reached her and she grinned despite herself.  The sound of the footsteps changed and even if she hadn’t already known it was Killian his gait would have been a dead giveaway.

 

“I’ll have you know I wasn’t actually trying,” he grumbled as he dropped into the chair at the head of the table.

 

“I’m sure,” she said with a laugh.

 

She looked him over, basking in the relative ease it was for her to do so before quickly looking away.  Instead she pulled her satchel into her lap, digging through its contents to pull out the children’s book he had insisted she read.

 

“Ah, did you enjoy it lass?” Killian asked when she placed it in front of her.

 

“In a way-” she shrugged, tracing the letters of the title with her finger. “I don’t get what it has to do with our plan but it wasn’t terrible.”

 

“It has nothing to do with anything,” Killian said with a chuckle.  Looking up at him she saw he was smiling at her like he had a secret, “Perhaps I just wanted to see if you’d actually read it.”

 

“Or maybe you just want to be like Peter.  No worries or responsibilities just a boy who never has to grow up,” she said with a scoff.

 

“I think you’ll find I’m much more like the illustrious Captain Hook,” he said with a low growl, “A fiend that still believes in good form.”

 

“I don’t think you’re a fiend,” Emma blurted out, immediately feeling heat flooding her cheeks.

 

Killian’s mouth dropped open slightly in surprise before twisting into a frown, “Then perhaps you should get to know me better.”

 

“I guess I should,” she said softly, enjoying the way his mouth dropped open once more.

 

“Hook, as I live and breathe,” Pinocchio said loudly, effectively breaking the sense of openness her and Killian had found together.

 

“Booth,” Killian said with a nod as he sat back in his chair.

 

“You know, I was just telling her that you never come in here,” Pinocchio said accusingly.  He was standing with his arms crossed in the doorway, looking at the two of them, “Of course you’ve always liked making me look bad.”

 

“That was one time and they only suspended you for a week.”

 

Pinocchio rolled his eyes, “Since you’re here I have your stuff.  It’s in the back office.”

 

Emma watched curiously as Killian’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly and his nostrils flared.  When she looked at Pinocchio she was surprised to see him with a satisfied smile and raised eyebrows, as though challenging Killian to say something.  Without a word Killian stood, his chair scraping along the floor in protest dragging her attention back to him with it, and stalked away from them into the depths of the library.

 

“You know he’s only here for you right?”

 

“I… what?” She stuttered out, looking back at him in surprise.

 

“Oh yeah,” Pinocchio said with a shake of his head, his smile turning into something enigmatic. “I’ve known him a long time but I’ve never seen him look at someone like he looks at you.  Not even his wife.”

 

Emma felt as though she had been doused by water drawn straight from one of Arendelle’s fjords, during winter.  She hadn't forgotten, not precisely, but she had been conveniently ignoring that she knew Killian had a wife.  It had worked to an extent, except for late at night and at that very moment with Pinocchio looking at her with false pity and a smile still on his lips.

 

“He never said anything,” she said with just enough hesitation to make it seem as though she was hearing the information for the first time.

 

“Why would he when a gorgeous woman comes waltzing into town and actually believes the bullshit he’s been spouting about his brother’s death?” Pinocchio asked with a casual shrug.

 

She was shocked by his almost vindictive words but she could sense no malice behind them.  Pinocchio was merely stating things as they were, as he saw them.  If not for the fact that she felt as though he had run her over with a carriage she would have laughed at his continued unwillingness to tell a lie, even a small one to spare her feelings.

 

Glancing back the way Killian had gone she quickly made the decision to not pry information out of Pinocchio.  She wanted to know the truth but she wanted to hear it from Killian herself.  No matter how much it might hurt in the end.

 

“I’m not interested in any kind of romance with him,” she said, the lie tasting like ash on her tongue. “He needs help and I’ve offered it to him.  It’s as simple as that.”

 

“Nothing’s ever simple,” Pinocchio muttered, rolling his eyes.  He looked over her table and she was surprised to see his eyes light up at something he saw there, “Have you started on that one yet?  I thought since you were going to read  _ Peter and Wendy _ that you’d enjoy that one too.  Not that it has anything to do with Hook’s obsession of course.”

 

Looking down at the table full of books she was confused for a moment until she noticed the ones directly in front of her.  She had placed  _ Peter and Wendy _ on top of the book she believed Pinocchio was talking about.  It was large, wider than any other book on the table and bound in a soft brown leather that was adorned with gold accents.  Moving the smaller book off of it she caught sight of the title,  _ Once Upon A Time, _ and was immediately reminded of the tales her father had told her when she was little and had tucked her in at night.

 

Flipping open the book to a random page she was shocked to find an illustration of the Brooke, her sails filled with wind, water cresting off the hull as she sliced through the waves, and at the helm was a small figure with long blonde hair.  She immediately looked at the words on the opposite page and found herself reading about the notorious Captain Swan and her penchant for attacking Misthaven ships.  With a shaking hand she turned to the pages at the beginning of the book and while there was no illustration she began reading about how Zelena had come up with her plan to succeed where her half-sister had failed.

 

She turned the pages further and saw what appeared to be a young and scrawny Killian sitting on a small bed with an equally young and gangly limbed Thompson standing in a doorway.  Again and the word Tuiscint jumped out at her before an incident involving a tree, an over inflated ego, and smug pride captured her attention.  Once more and Captain Swan was being described healing Killian with her magic as he lay dying from a wound inflicted by the notorious pirate Blackbeard.

 

Half knowing what she would find and dreading it she turned to the end of the book.  Emma didn’t need more than a glimpse of the illustration to relive the moment when Killian had professed his love seconds before she had disappeared in a puff of white smoke, a cauldron spewing purple smoke of its own resting sinisterly in the corner.  The illustration grew blurry and it took a moment for her to realize that she was staring at it through her tears.

 

“Where did you get this?” She asked in a choked voice.

 

“Er, I’m not sure,” Pinocchio said, sounding uncomfortable.  Brushing away her tears she looked up and saw his face screwed up in concentration, “It’s not in the system, I checked twice and it doesn’t have anything indicating it came from a library at all.  Best I can guess is one of the old timers at Sunset Storybrooke thought it was one of mine and dumped it in the return bin when they were here a couple days ago.  I take it you’ve read it before?”

 

“Not this version but yeah,” she said softly, running her fingers over Killian’s face in the illustration.

 

“I’m not usually one for fairy tales but I couldn’t put this one down.  Read it all in one go the night after I found it-” he paused and then pursed his lips in consideration, “Maybe that’s why my leg hurts, I must have been sitting weird for too long.  Anyway they won’t be bringing back the people from Sunset for another two weeks so feel free to borrow it until then.”

 

“I… thank you,” she said softly.

 

“You couldn’t be bothered to keep it in the bloody safe?”

 

Emma hastily wiped the rest of the tears from her face.  She hoped that Pinocchio wouldn’t mention anything to Killian but she couldn’t be sure.  It was painfully clear that his loyalties seemed to belong wholly to himself.

 

Killian strode towards them with a put upon look on his face.  Emma couldn’t see anything on him that indicated he had retrieved something from Pinocchio’s office.  She could only imagine that it was something small and easy to hide, her mind immediately flashing to a pouch full of gold.  Her eyes darted down to  _ Peter and Wendy _ and she realized that people calling Killian Hook was more than just a moniker derived from the replacement for his hand.

 

“What’ve you got there lass?”

 

A sudden anger came over her, turning the edges of her vision red.  There hadn’t been a single hint that she would be successful in not only finding those taken by the curse but in breaking it too aside from a prophecy that she barely believed in.  She had struggled for so long, all alone even when she was surrounded by sympathetic faces.  To find that everything she was fighting to restore was lost to the curse had been a blow but realizing that Killian had become a twisted and shadowed version of himself had pushed her too far.

 

“It’s a book.  I’m sure you’ve heard of them seeing as you’re in a library,” she snapped as she slammed the book shut.  Ignoring Killian’s look of shock and turning to see it mirrored on Pinocchio’s face she plowed on, “Where is this Sunset Storybrooke?”

 

“Uh, it’s, er, on the west end of town,” Pinocchio stuttered out.

 

“How do I get there?”

 

“Head south down Main for about a mile and take a right on Hemingford Way and it’ll be the big green victorian three blocks down.  Can’t miss it,” he said quickly, clearly at a loss as to how to deal with her sudden shift in demeanor.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Emma continued to ignore Killian as much as she could as she straightened up the books she’d gone through, pointedly dropping  _ Peter and Wendy _ onto one of the piles furthest away from her.  She could see that his look of shock had been replaced by one of confusion out of the corner of her eye and tried to keep a vindictive smile from unfurling.  It was wholly unfair but she reasoned that it was high time he was the one on uneven footing around her.  Shoving the parchments she had doodled on into her satchel she stood quickly from the table, grabbing  _ Once Upon a Time _ as she did.

 

“Do you have an idea who might have left this?” She asked, tapping out a disjointed rhythm on the back cover with her fingers.

 

“Um… we only had three come in for that trip so it’s between Mr. Avery, Mrs. Parry, and Granny Lucas.”

 

Her fingers clenched involuntarily around the book, recognizing the third name from not only their land but from what Killian had called Red at the diner.  Pinocchio hadn’t seemed to notice her reaction but she somehow knew that Killian had.

 

“Do you mind if I take it back to whoever it belonged to?  I want to see if they’ve read it as much as I have,” she said staring him down, daring him to deny her.

 

“No, that’s fine.  It’s fine,” Pinocchio said quickly, caving as easily as he had back when he remembered her.

 

“Good-” she slung her satchel over her shoulder and started moving towards the front exit of the library, “I’ll be back, I’m not sure when exactly but I’ll be here.”

 

“Right, yeah,” Pinocchio agreed, nodding as she brushed past him.

 

“Thanks again.”

 

As soon as the library door closed behind her and she began walking in the direction Pinocchio had told her to go Emma started counting.  She had only made it to fifteen before she heard the door bang open and the sound of boot heels quickly catching up to her.  The unforgiving metal of Killian’s hook caught her elbow, forcing her to stop and face him.

 

“What the bloody hell was that lass?” He hissed indignantly, his blue eyes flashing in anger and also with something that she refused to believe was hurt.

 

“Talking to the person who owns this book can help,” she said intentionally misinterpreting what question he was asking.

 

“No, not that,” he growled. “What did August say to you to have you start treating me like a pariah?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

She had said it too quickly, too defensively, cursing herself when he rocked back on his heels in some kind of understanding.  His eyes darted down to his hook, still on her elbow, and he recoiled in self loathing.  Her anger turned in on herself and she felt ashamed that he thought she was in any way upset because of the loss of his hand.

 

“You never said you were married,” she blurted out, feeling the heat of a blush rushing up her neck and cheeks.

 

“Ah.”

 

Emma waited for Killian to follow up his less than adequate reply but he did nothing more than run his hand through his hair and shrug helplessly.  The anger crested again and she shot him a look of disgust before resuming her march down the roadway.

 

“Wait, lass!” He quickly caught up to her again, “Can we- can I drive you over and I can explain?”

 

“I think I’d rather walk,” she said shortly, picking up her pace.

 

Killian sighed but kept in step with her, “Yes, I’m married but it’s not what you think.”

 

She scoffed as she stopped to wait at a corner for a break in the cars roaring past.  The desperation for her to understand was clear in his tone and in how he was shifting uneasily from foot to foot next to her.  It was a struggle to keep herself from giving him any sign that she was waiting on a knife’s edge for his answer.  She had already given away too much by bringing it up in the first place.

 

“I met Deb when we first moved here and she made me feel like I wasn’t such an outsider,” he said quietly, almost resignedly. “We dated through our senior year but I had plans to leave this godforsaken town as soon as I was handed a diploma.  Deb didn’t like that even though I wanted her to go with me.  She wanted us to stay here and live the whole white picket fence life, something she knew I detested.  We fought about it, she walked away, and I thought that was the end of it.  After two years together and she had just given up on us.

 

“The day I was supposed to leave, I mean my car was packed, I had said my goodbyes, the whole deal and Deb tells me she’s pregnant.  I ended up driving us to the courthouse instead.  Turns out she wasn’t pregnant, never had been, just needed a reason to keep me from leaving her.

 

“That was the first time I saw her true colors but I still loved her, thought I could make things work.  At first I stayed with her out of love and loyalty but it wasn’t long before the manipulative side of her truly came out.  Each time I tried to end things she dragged me back down with her and Tommy kept saying I’d made my bed and her mother was almost as influential in this town as Viridans or Gold.  Her mother died a few years ago and I’d finally filed for legal separation until I had the money for a divorce attorney.  Then Tommy was killed.  All my savings went to pay for his funeral and I’ve focused on doing right by him instead of the state of my marriage.

 

“In short, yes, I am married but only according to the law.  I haven’t lived with Deb for nearly five years and our relationship has been over for far longer than that.  I didn’t tell you because I’m so used to everyone in this town already knowing my business that it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t and for that I’m sorry.”

 

At the end of his confession Killian seemed to stand taller, as if something had been pressing down on him and it had just lightened considerably.  Emma, on the other hand, felt as though that weight had fallen squarely on her shoulders and she wasn’t sure she could handle it.  A million and one thoughts were flying through her head, none of them sticking long enough for her to take hold of and examine their meaning.

 

There was a part of her that was relieved that Killian’s cursed marriage hadn’t been anything of consequence in the actual year he’d been living with it.  However, she was also upset that his current memories held such heartbreak and betrayal and that the cruelty of the Dark Curse seemed to have no bounds.  Then there was the fact that the both of them had acknowledged that there was something between them, without explicitly saying so.  She could feel a dull ache forming at the base of her skull.

 

“Why tell me all that?  A short answer would have been enough,” Emma asked, watching him carefully.

 

“We said no lies-” he shrugged, “and I wanted you to know.  You had a right to know.”

 

“Oh.”

 

She blinked and suddenly he was closer to her than before.  His eyes were a sharp, crystalline blue and he was looking at her as though she were the key to unlocking everything.  With a less than steady breath she tried not to think about how she was fated to be exactly that.

 

“I know Viridans has done something to someone you hold very close to your heart and I have no expectations whatsoever-” he gave her a grin that was equal parts hopeful and broken, “but I want you to know that I’m here.  Whatever happens or doesn’t, if we’re meant to be merely friends or perhaps something more, I’m in this, whatever this may be, for the long haul.”

 

Emma found that she couldn’t quite breath properly.  There was something lodged in her throat and she wasn’t sure if it was her heart or not.  It was too much and yet not enough somehow and the lump in her throat only grew bigger.

 

“I…”

 

“Don’t worry, lass, like I said: no expectations.  Now, why are we heading to Sunset?”

 

Like that the moment was broken.  She once more became aware of the cars going past at speeds she still couldn’t quite comprehend and that there were more than a few people openly staring at them as they walked past them standing unmoving at the corner of the walkway.  It belatedly occurred to her that she should have allowed Killian to take them in his car, if only to avoid Zelena and Walsh finding her as long as possible.

 

Emma hesitated.  The book was clearly Killian’s story and as much as she wanted him to see it she wondered if he should.  She knew that simply by reading it his memories wouldn’t suddenly come rushing back, nothing could ever be so easy.  It was the crushing disappointment that she knew she would feel when he brushed it off as nothing more than imagined nonsense that kept her from explaining immediately.  If only she hadn’t made the promise to tell him the truth.

 

“This… story-” she started hesitantly, hugging the book to her chest tightly, “I’ve only ever, um, listened to it being told to me from memory.  I didn’t even know that it was an actual book until August put with all those other ones he’d put aside for me.”

 

“A rare printing then?” He asked, a gleam in his eye as his gaze dropped down to the book. “Is it a first edition?”

 

“A what?”

 

“Nevermind, that’s not what’s important,” he said quickly, shaking his head before looking back up at her.

 

“Okay…,” she said skeptically but decided to let it go when he nodded encouragingly at her. “I need to talk to the person that left this because they might know something that can help us.”

 

“What exactly is in this book?” His eyebrows jumped up in surprise.

 

“It’s-” she sighed, resigned to telling him something, “it’s hard to explain but the story in this book actually happened.  If I could just talk to them there’s a chance that they’ll know something about what we need to do.”

 

“So it’s a biography or a historical account?  Does it have to do with how Viridans took control of everything?”

 

“It might,” she hedged.  Looking around her quickly she motioned for them to keep moving, “I won’t know until we talk to the owner of this book.  You know where Sunset Storybrooke is right?”

 

“Of course I do,” he said in a slightly scandalized voice, “If you had just let me drive we would have been there in less than five minutes.”

 

They walked in relative silence until Emma noticed Killian tapping his leg erratically with his hook.  Smirking at the obvious tell she glanced at him with her brows raised.

 

“If you want to ask me something just do it.  Our agreement still stands.”

 

Killian huffed out a laugh, “You’re too bloody observant, lass, no wonder you found out I’m still married.”

 

“Oh-” she cleared her throat hoping it would prevent her voice from squeaking a response, “Pi- August told me actually, before I found the book.  Is that what you’re nervous about asking me?”

 

“No.  I, uh-” Killian scratched behind his ear and shrugged, “I was wondering if that’s why you were mad at me.  Because I was married.”

 

“Oh,” she said again, at a loss for words.  She looked up and down the roadway in order to avoid his gaze but there were no cars or people to distract her, “No, that’s not why.”

 

“Did August say something else to you?”  Killian asked with a growl. “He’s always had it out for me because of the shit I pulled in high school.”

 

“I thought you trusted him,” Emma said wryly.

 

“I do but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to screw me over from time to time,” he said, clearly frustrated. “If it wasn’t that then what was it?”

 

She sighed, spotting the signpost indicating Hemingford Way was just ahead.

 

“That’s where we want to head west right?”

 

“Lass?”

 

“I realized that maybe the reason you saw yourself in Captain Hook is because you’re a bit of a pirate yourself.  You were looking for a ship that night we first met and August had been expecting you a few days ago and had something for you today, even though he told me you almost never went to the library.  Also when the sheriff stopped by you left as quick as you could.  So are you?”

 

“A pirate?” He asked with a raised brow and a corner of his mouth ticked up. “Something like that.  That’s why you were mad at me?”

 

“Not at you,” she said truthfully, turning down Hemingford Way. “More at the circumstances?  There’s been a lot that’s happened since I came to this town and it all kind of hit me at once.  Not that I’m some goody two shoes that obeys the law either and you mentioned something about that bending the rules before but I just… I’m sorry.”

 

“No need to be sorry lass,” Killian said laughing. “If I thought you were remotely on the abiding side of the law I would have let you be.  I knew you were a bit of a rebel that first night and seeing you ready to attack Viridans meant you were just the person I needed to take her down for good. That’s just this pirate’s opinion though.”

 

Emma found herself smiling as she shook her head at his opinion of her.  She knew they were once again edging close to discussing their draw towards one another but she couldn’t help it.  All her sleepless nights worrying about tearing apart a happy marriage or breaking Killian’s heart when he remembered everything was for naught.  Before she could let her thoughts wander away from her Killian came to a stop.

 

Pinocchio had been right, it was impossible to miss the manor that was Sunset Storybrooke.  It loomed over the hedges that were lining the walkway, it’s green paint fading or chipped as was the white trim around the windows and across the eaves.  Emma could hear music faintly playing from somewhere in the vicinity but no other sounds of life emanated from the imposing structure.

 

“Here we are: Sunset Storybrooke, where the citizens of our fair town ship off the loved ones they don’t feel like dealing with any longer,” Killian said disdainfully, glaring at a wooden sign she hadn’t noticed.  Then he looked at her hesitantly, “Before we go in I have a, well, a confession I’d like to make.”

 

“About what?” She asked, shifting from foot to foot as she tried not to jump to conclusions.

 

“Well, you rightfully guessed about my more nefarious activities and seeing as how you’re still willing to let me linger at your side…” he trailed off, glancing back towards the way they’d come.  When he looked back at her he seemed determined to speak his mind, “I followed you.  After you left the library.  I was curious.”

 

“Okay?”

 

Emma felt a nervous churning in her gut.

 

“I saw the ship, the one you said you sailed here on.  I’d assumed it was a yacht or a small sailing skiff, not some hundred foot replica of some colonial ship with multiple masts and cannons lining the deck,” he said accusingly, running his hand through his hair.

 

Her heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest and she said shakily, “The Jewel of the Realm.”

 

“I... what?”

 

“My ship is named The Jewel of the Realm, she’s a marvel,” she said quietly.  There was once again no spark of recognition, “My crew and I sailed her here after trying to find this place for over a year.”

 

“Your crew?” Killian asked dumbfoundedly.

 

“You’re not the only one with a little pirate in them, Jones,” she said with a sad shrug as she pushed past him to the walkway leading to the manor.

 

The inside of Sunset Storybrooke was only slightly better than its outside appearance.  The walls were painted a dull buttercream color, the rugs underfoot were a brown Emma had never seen in nature, and despite the multiple windows lining the outer walls no natural light seemed to penetrate its halls.  It smelled strongly of dried flowers which barely masked a harsher, unnatural scent that had her sneezing quickly in succession.  The sound drew the gaze of a kind looking middle-aged woman in white linens that was sitting behind a large desk.

 

“How can I help you?” She asked with a genial smile.

 

“I was hoping to speak to Granny Lucas?” Emma heard Killian grunt in surprise behind her. “If that’s alright.”

 

“Oh, that’s wonderful dear!” The woman smiled wider and beckoned them forward with a wave of her hand. “Let me just get you some visitor’s badges.  This will be such a nice surprise for her.  Ms. Lucas doesn’t get many visitors and that granddaughter of hers only comes by once a month and that’s to drop off a check.  Can I get your names?”

 

“I’m Eva and this is Kil- er, Kieran,” Emma murmured, stunned that Red would just abandon Granny that way.

 

“Last name?”

 

“Jones,” Killian answered, stepping up beside her.

 

Before Emma could invent a surname of her own the woman spoke.

 

“Alright, Mr. and Mrs. Jones here are your badges-” she didn’t seem to notice their noise of protest as she slid two small squares of parchment towards them. “Visiting hours end at three but you’re in for a treat because it just happens to be the day the shelter brings over a few dogs for the residents to sit with.  Just head on back to the solarium, Ms. Lucas will be there.  She never misses Shelter Day.”

 

“Uh, thank you-”

 

“Call me Miss Hayes, we don’t really go by nurse this or nurse that.  Makes it more comfortable for our residents.”

 

“Of course.  Thank you, Miss Hayes,” Killian said with a bright smile.  He flung his arm around her, the hard brace of his hook gently resting on her hip, “Shall we, darling?  Wouldn’t want to miss out on Shelter Day.”

 

Miss Hayes giggled and waved them towards the hallway that lead deeper into the manor.  Emma waited until she was certain they were out of Miss Hayes’ sight before she reluctantly stepped away from Killian.  She heard his arm thump back against him and a sound she half convinced herself wasn’t a sigh of regret.

 

The solarium was a large, open room with walls that were mostly windows and at least a dozen chairs and half a dozen settees scattered about.  There were several older men and women occupying the chairs, some with dogs in their laps or by their feet. Spread across the room were three others wearing the same white linens that Miss Hayes had been wearing, quietly checking on the older folks.  The music that Emma had heard from the outside was playing much louder in the room and as she looked for the source she found herself looking straight at her father.

 

“Did someone forget to pay their toll Nolan?  Or did they answer your riddle right and you’ve come to find out how they outsmarted you?” Killian asked, seemingly unaware of how she had frozen in place.

 

“Funny, Jones,” David said gruffly. “The kids that usually do this had some some sort of school thing and I had no one else.”

 

“Ah, so doing this out of the kindness of your heart I see,” Killian said with a roll of his eyes.  He glanced back at Emma, “I know you don’t care in the slightest but this is Em- Eva.  Eva, this is David Nolan.  He runs the shelter and vet clinic.”

 

David looked at her, unimpressed, “You must be the one that’s got the sheriff’s office working overtime.  Can’t imagine why.”

 

Emma bit her lip and dug her fingernails into her palm until she could only feel those physical pains and not the one of her heart breaking.  She felt a pressure between her shoulders and looked over to see Killian glaring daggers at him.

 

“A prince as always Nolan, can’t imagine why everyone in town avoids talking to you,” Killian spat out.  He gently nudged her to move in the opposite direction, “Come on lass, I see Granny Lucas over there.”

 

She let herself be lead, barely wondering how Killian knew Granny in this land.  The last time she had seen David had been through mirror magic.  He had known her then, mourned their separation with her, and had then been snatched away by Zelena’s cruelty even before the Dark Curse had been cast.  It didn’t escape her notice that Killian had been there to comfort her then too.

 

“Don’t mind that ass,” Killian murmured in a low voice, glancing back behind them. “David Nolan wouldn’t even be welcoming to the Queen if she came to town specifically to meet him.  Shame really, I hear she’s quite lovely.”

 

She huffed out a shaky laugh, amused by the news that there was royalty somewhere in the realm and Killian’s ridiculous attempt at distracting her.  It almost worked until she remembered that David was a king and he had no recollection of his own queen and wife.  Digging her nails deeper into her palm she forced herself to look for Granny among the half dozen people in front of her.

 

It took almost no time at all for Emma to find her.  She was sitting in a wooden rocker, knitting needles in hand and an enormous, wiry haired grey dog laying docile at her feet.  Killian had to nudge her again to get her to move forward.

 

“Excuse me, Ms. Lucas?” Emma asked hesitantly once they were standing before her, looking to Killian who nodded in encouragement.  She shakily held the book in front of her, “I was wondering if this was your book.”

 

Granny set down her knitting in her lap and reached for the book.  Emma gave it over willingly, watching as her gnarled hands gently opened the cover and began turning the pages.  When she looked up at them she had a wistful smile on her lips.

 

“You’ve always been the most beautiful princess,” Granny sighed.  She looked back down at the book and began tracing the words, “Even more so than your mother.”

 

A jolt of excitement raced up Emma’s spine.  She quickly dropped to her knees, putting her hands over Granny’s to recapture her attention.

 

“Granny?  Do you remember?”

 

Granny looked at her with a bright smile, “Well, who are you sweetheart?  Did you want to borrow my book?”

 

“I-” Emma looked up at Killian, stricken.  He looked back at her with a sad understanding and she fearfully turned back to Granny, “Granny, it’s me, Emma.  Do you remember me?”

 

“This book is one of my favorites,” Granny said, patting her hand. “That prince doesn’t know what he’s in for but, oh, when he goes after the princess it always makes my heart flutter.”

 

“Granny,” Killian said softly, crouching down beside her. “Can you tell us anything else about this book?  Perhaps where you got it?”

 

“You look just like what I pictured the prince to look like.  Those blue eyes,” Granny said with a wink. “Everyone deserves a good old fashioned fairy tale in their life.”

 

Emma could almost feel Killian staring at her but she couldn’t seem to breathe.  It was yet another blow and coming within minutes of David’s harsh dismissal of her was too much for her to try and prevail over her emotions.  She looked away from them as the first tears began to fall, focusing blurrily on the gently waving branches of a tree she could see through the windows.

 

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” Granny said in a kind tone, her warm fingers gently wiping away the tears on Emma’s cheeks.  When Emma looked back at her she held up the book, “Take it.  If there’s one thing in this book worth knowing it’s that nothing is ever as bad as it seems.  It’s the best part about fairy tales, there’s always hope for a happy ending.”

 

Before Emma could thank her or try to discover why she had called her a princess the sound of breaking glass drew their attention.  It seemed to be a bowl of some sort and the mess was already being cleaned up by two of the people wearing the white linens.  Emma felt a tap on her shoulder and found Granny looking at her expectantly.

 

“Are you here to borrow my book?  It’s one of my favorites.”

 

“We are and we’ll bring it back very soon,” Killian said happily, though his serious countenance was at odds with his tone.  He stood, taking the book from Granny and clutched it under his arm, “Come along, lass, we won’t learn anything here.”

 

He offered her his hand and she took it blindly, tears falling anew as he pulled her up from the ground.  Without a word he led her to a corner of the solarium where he tugged her down with him onto a settee.  As she tried to get ahold of herself he waited patiently, offering her a flimsy handkerchief when she had calmed down to sniffles.

 

“Believe it or not this is one of her good days,” Killian sighed, settling back on the settee.

 

“What do you mean?” She asked as she tried to wipe her eyes and nose with what remained of her dignity.

 

“Some days she doesn’t even realize people are talking to her at all.  Ruby can’t bring herself to visit anymore, as you might have guessed.  I come when I can but not as often as I’d like.”

 

“Why?  Is she related to you?”  Emma asked, glad he wasn’t commenting on her breakdown.

 

“Not by blood,” Killian said ruefully. “She gave me my first job at the diner and let me pick up the odd shift here and there to help make ends meet.  She was also the first one to tell me it was okay to let things go if they were just making me miserable.  Didn’t come right out and say ‘get a divorce’ but I got her meaning all the same.”

 

“When did she…” Emma glanced over at Granny, unsure how to put the question into words.

 

“It started with little things here and there almost two years ago,” He said, looking at Granny with her. “I didn’t find out Ruby put her in here until I was in the hospital after I lost my hand and she never came to visit.  Every so often she remembers who I am for a good chunk of time and it’s like nothing’s changed.  It is weird though...”

 

“What?”

 

Killian balanced the book on his hook and arm and tapped the cover, “She’s never once mentioned this book, not before and I doubt she’d remember it that well from her time here.”

 

“Maybe she’s just read it over and over again and it stuck with her?  Or maybe she just never mentioned her reading habits to you while you were serving those stupid onion things.”

 

“Onion rings, lass,” Killian said bemused but still thoughtful. “I don’t know it seems odd.”

 

Suddenly the massive dog at Granny’s feet lifted his head and started to growl, a low pitched menacing sound directed towards the door of the solarium.  As though it was a signal the other dogs in the room started growling as well, some jumping off the laps they were sitting on, their hackles raised and teeth bared.  Emma didn’t have a chance to wonder what caused such a reaction when a man walked into the room and the growling turned into barking.

 

She hadn’t seen him in person in over twelve years.  It had been one dance among many on her sixteenth birthday but he looked exactly the same as he had then, when he had told her he was only twelve years her senior.  He had dark brown hair that swept across his forehead over thick brows, his eyes were dark and cunning, and his ears were his most prominent feature, poking out from under his hair.  At their introduction he had called himself Mister Diggs but she knew he had more recently gone by the name Caleb as a spy in Liam’s court in Balliolshire.  There was no question in her mind that he was the Sheriff Walsh that had been circling ever closer to her.

 

“I need you to do something.  There’s no time for questions,” Emma whispered quickly to Killian, trying not to draw attention to their corner as Walsh and David tried to quiet the dogs.  He nodded, brows drawn down in confusion, “Keep the book safe, don’t let that man or Viridans get ahold of it.  There’s a man following Viridans, he’s thin, has light brown hair, and is only slightly taller than you.  He’ll be watching her from that alley you caught me in.  Find him and tell him what’s happened.”

 

“What do you mean what’s happened?” He asked confused, eyes darting between her and Walsh.

 

“Follow Viridans, she’ll go wherever he takes me.  Hopefully it’s straight to her but if not just go where she goes-” she looked towards Walsh and her stomach dropped when she saw that he had noticed her and was walking towards them.  She quickly turned back to Killian “If worst comes to worst tell Turner to bring the Jewel into port and keep arguing that it’s an order.  Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

 

“Wait, lass, you’ve got to explain-”

 

“Promise me you’ll do what I said,” she said urgently, knowing they were running out of time. “Please, Kil- Kieran.”

 

“I promise but-”

 

“Well, well, well-” Walsh’s voice cut across the din still being made by the dogs, despite David’s continued attempts to quiet them.  He stopped before them, too close to the settee so they were forced to crane their necks to look up at him, “You’ve been quite the elusive tourist, if I do say so myself, miss…”

 

“Eva,” she said, giving Walsh a saccharine sweet smile.  She stood, forcing him to step back, “And you are?”

 

“Walsh Baum, sheriff and unofficial town welcomer,” he said with a smile of his own.  He held out his hand and Emma took it reluctantly, trying not to flinch at the coldness of his palm, “So, welcome to Storybrooke.”

 

“Thank you,” she said, pulling her hand out of his and resisting the urge to wipe it on her trousers. “Any reason you were looking for me in particular?”

 

“Not as such, no,” Walsh said, his smile growing wider as his thumbs hooked onto his belt. “Just been some word that we had visitors in town and wanted to welcome them as such.”

 

“So you said,” she pointed out, careful to keep her tone friendly and hands at her side to not seem either too defensive or itching for a fight.

 

Killian stood as well.  She noticed that he had half shoved the book under a pillow and felt an unexpected wave of relief that he was heeding her warnings.

 

“Is there a problem Sheriff?”

 

“Of course not Jones, at least there won’t be if miss…”

 

“Just call me Eva, everyone does,” she said with a casual shrug, noting how Walsh kept pressing her for a surname.

 

“Well, Eva, if you’re willing I’d like to give you a fully guided tour of Storybrooke.  My deputy mentioned that he had offered you one earlier in the week and I’d like to extend that invitation myself.  I won’t take no for an answer.”

 

Walsh was still smiling but it didn’t reach his eyes.  She could tell that his last statement was both a promise and a threat.  She could feel Killian shifting slightly beside her, bristling nearly as much as the dogs in the room, and yet no one else had taken notice of their small standoff.  It was almost as if the others had turned a blind eye to them when Walsh had walked over.

 

“I’ve already shown her the highlights, Baum,” Killian growled, taking half a step towards her so their arms were brushing. “No need to show off the pothole on Wilshire or the rusty playground at Miner’s Park.”

 

“Watch the tone Jones,” Walsh snapped, glaring at him. “Or don’t, I won’t need much to get you back in your favorite cell.”

 

Killian went to move but Emma stopped him, grabbing his arm.  She tightened her grip until he looked at her.  He was angry, practically vibrating with it, but she held on until his focus was completely on her.

 

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, all to aware that Walsh was watching them closely. “I already told you I was going to see more of the town and now the sheriff will make sure I won’t get lost.  So are you going to make a scene or are you going to meet with Turner? You did promise you’d be there.”

 

His jaw ticked several times.  Emma knew he was biting back his arguments against her going with Walsh.  She wasn’t sure he would let her go without a fight until he sighed and his arm relaxed under her hand.  Without thinking about it too much she slid her hand down to his and squeezed it gratefully.

 

She turned back to Walsh, “Alright Sheriff-”

 

“Call me Walsh,” he said, his smile back in place.

 

“Well, Walsh, I guess I’m ready for that tour.”

 

“Excellent!” He grinned widely, showing too many teeth for it to be anything but threatening. “I’m parked right out front, if you’d like to lead the way.”

 

Emma started walking but Killian seemed reluctant to let her go, his hand staying wrapped hers until she moved too far away to keep holding on.  She gave him an encouraging smile over her shoulder before letting it slide into one of polite interest for Walsh.  He gave her one in return, motioning for her to precede him.  As she passed a disinterested David and shot one final look back at Granny in her rocker and Killian still standing in the corner she wondered exactly when she’d given up all sense of reason.  To almost willingly walk straight into Zelena’s claws without knowing if she’d make it out alive was surely a sign of madness.

 

Looking forward once more she just hoped she would finally get some answers before Zelena decided to be done with her once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so many things happened! Yes, the actual show was cancelled but never fear I have plans on plans for going forward with this story. Also, yes, David's kind of a grump (there was a warning about that a few chapter's ago) but he wasn't the one who snitched to Walsh about Emma being at Sunset. Let's just say the curse may have made him a bit too much like James in some respects. Just want to get that out there.
> 
> Next: A tour and a long overdue talk with the Wicked Witch.


	14. Risk to Exist

Emma stared dully out the window of Walsh’s car as he droned on and on about various buildings and locations dotted around Storybrooke.  When she had been led out of Sunset Storybrook she had been all but certain that Walsh was going to take her straight to Zelena. What she hadn’t realized was that Walsh had seemingly only been told to find the strangers in town, not what to do with them once he did.  At first she had tried to figure out how to use his naivete to her advantage but after slowly moving down seemingly every roadway within the borders of the town she was merely trying to continue the charade of being interested in what he had to say.

 

“And this is the Sheriff’s Station where I and my deputy slog away the hours,” Walsh said jovially as he brought the car to a stop in front of a two story brick building.  He undid the straps that ran over his torso and lap, “Come on inside, I’m sure there’s still a donut or two left and our coffee’s much better than the sludge at Granny’s. I bought us a Keurig last quarter.”

 

“Sure,” she said with a shrug, knowing she had no choice in the matter.

 

She carefully undid her straps the way she’d seen Walsh do his.  When it furled successfully back into place she silently sighed in relief.  Vaguely remembering how Killian had let her out of his car she grasped the only metal handle she could see and was rewarded with the dull click of the door unlatching.  They were small victories but she would take anything she could get when she felt like she was walking towards a hangman’s noose.

 

“The original jailhouse was built on this site only a year after Storybrooke was founded in 1838 and was used up until it was destroyed in a fire in 1933,” Walsh began as soon as closed the car door behind her.  He motioned for her to walk beside him, “The second jail lasted less than forty years, it was a hurricane that time, and the city council decided the next building should be able to withstand pretty much anything.  This is that building.”

 

“It’s very, um…”

 

“Dated, I know,” Walsh chuckled, opening a glass door and ushering her inside. “We’ve had issues with the plumbing and a seriously leaky roof.  Don’t get me started on all the electrical problems we’ve had. It’s a nightmare trying to run the copier when both I and my deputy are here.”

 

She gave him what she hoped was an interested hum, glancing around herself in real curiosity.  It was stark, almost imposing in it’s lack of character and with an eerie quiet within its walls that she wondered if the people jailed there simply went mad within a few hours of their confinement.  Even the sound of their footsteps and Walsh’s voice sounded muted as they walked deeper into the building.

 

They ended up in a large open room with two barred cells on one end, a smaller room with glass walls on the other, and two desks pushed up against each other in between.  Sitting at one of the desks, his feet perched atop as he leaned back precariously, was Robin. Emma sucked in a breath in surprise and Walsh looked at her sharply.

 

“Is there a problem?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

 

“No,” she said with a stuttered laugh, playing into being caught off-guard.  She waved her hand at the room around her as she furiously tried to remember Robin’s cursed name, “I wasn’t expecting it to look quite like this or that I’d be seeing Deputy, um-”

 

“Archer, ma’am,” Robin said with a wide smile, dropping his feet to the ground with a thump and standing, offering her his hand to shake. “I haven’t seen much of you around since that day at the docks.  I hope Mr. Jones hasn’t been taking up too much of your time.”

 

She tried not to grimace at his accusatory tone as she gave his hand a perfunctory shake, letting go quickly, “Kieran has been nice enough to show me a few places but I’ve also had the chance to look around for myself.  Although, nothing quite compares to the in-depth roundabout tour I just received from Sheriff Baum.”

 

Robin burst out into surprised laughter while Walsh frowned slightly.  Emma was slightly worried that she’d pay for her comment later but with Robin still laughing she didn’t want to think about it until she had to.  It was clear that while Walsh held the power in the room Robin didn’t hold much stock in it.

 

“Did he take you all the way out to the Wishing Well?” Robin asked in a conspiratorial tone.  He leaned closer to her, keeping his humor filled blue eyes on Walsh, “Rumor is if you make your wish politely it will come true within five to ten business days.”

 

“Ha, ha.  Don’t you have paperwork to finish up?” Walsh asked dryly.  He stalked over to a table with various cups, a black and silver contraption that he began fiddling with and a bright pink box on it, “Do you prefer dark or medium roast?”

 

“Uh-” Emma looked confusedly at Robin who merely shrugged back at her, “I don’t really know the difference?”

 

“Neither do I so you’re in good company here.  At least he didn’t offer you the french roast, bloody awful it is,” Robin said with an exaggerated shudder, sitting back down at the desk.

 

“Paperwork, Archer,” Walsh said shortly, placing a cup in the contraption and turning back to them. “We have some time to kill before Mayor Viridans joins us so why don’t you go ahead and have a seat in my office and I’ll be in shortly with your coffee and one of these donuts.”

 

Her stomach dropped.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Robin looking at her with shocked puzzlement.  It was clear that neither of the men knew why Zelena wanted to speak to her. She had no doubt that if Zelena had been informed that the stranger in town they were keeping under close watch was her that the witch would have already been waiting impatiently for their arrival.  She took little comfort in the further delay of their confrontation.

 

“Why would the mayor want to see me?” Emma asked, keeping her tone curious.

 

“You must either be really important or a real trouble maker.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Viridans in here, even when we broke up that smuggli-”

 

“That’s enough, Archer!” Walsh snapped at Robin, his eyes flashing in anger.  He took a deep breath and looked back at her, “Eva, excuse us, I need to have a word with my deputy. And if you’d close the door please?”

 

She looked at Robin who gave her a commiserating shrug and an unworried smile.  Reluctantly she walked into the small glass walled room and shut the door behind her.  Walsh watched her for a moment before turning to Robin and began speaking in a low tone ensuring she couldn’t hear them.

 

Watching closely through the glass she could see that Walsh was nervous.  He kept shifting from foot to foot and running his hands through his hair.  Every so often he would dart a glance towards where they’d entered before checking on her once more.  She did her best to look uninterested when he did. The most telling, however, was the change that overtook Robin.  He went from smiling to frowning to carefully sneaking glances at her almost as often as Walsh. Knowing she was pushing her luck she turned her back on them and sat down to wait for Walsh to join her.

 

She tried not to think about how much Robin’s opinion of her might have changed due to whatever it was Walsh had said.  Instead her mind wandered to Killian, wondering if he’d found Turner and if they were currently forming a plan or if he’d ignored her pleas completely and was about to walk into the room in some attempt at rescuing her.  As much as she hoped for the former she couldn’t help the small smile at the thought of the latter.

 

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

 

Emma jumped, so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t heard Walsh enter the office through a second door she hadn’t noticed.  She silently scolded herself for letting her mind wander when she needed to pay attention the most. Walsh closed the door behind him, placing a cup of coffee and a round pastry with a hole in it on the desk in front of her.

 

“Thank you,” she said as she picked up the cup.  She nodded her head back towards Robin, “I hope he’s not in trouble because of me.”

 

“Don’t worry, he’s not,” Walsh said with a false smile. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee but there’s sugar and creamer back on the table there.”

 

“This is fine-” she took a sip, not wanting to risk being cornered and questioned by Robin when she already had to contend with Walsh.  She slipped back into her curious, unknowing guise, “You never said why the mayor wants to see me. I haven’t done anything wrong have I?”

 

“No, no, nothing like that-” Walsh’s eyes slid to the second door that he’d entered through, the one that opened to the hallway leading to the entrance of the building, “She’s just interested in meeting you.  We don’t get very many visitors here and I think she might want to know what brought you to our town. To see if we can use it to boost our tourist draw.”

 

“Really?” Emma asked, trying not to scoff in disbelief.

 

“Of course,” he said with a nod, focusing back on her. “So what did bring you to Storybrooke?”

 

“Kieran asked me to help him with something,” she said, shrugging and taking another sip of her coffee.  Walsh’s eye twitched and she kept a victorious smile off her face, “I just couldn’t say no.”

 

“And where exactly are you visiting from?”

 

“An off the map town far from here,” she answered vaguely, her feeling of victory souring in her stomach.

 

He hummed and leaned back in his chair, “But you didn’t come by car.  At least I haven’t seen an out of state license plate driving down our streets lately.  There’s also no bus route or train that makes a stop anywhere near here and the harbormaster hasn’t mentioned any unfamiliar boats floating around his harbor.  So how exactly did you get here?”

 

“Kieran picked us up in Portland,” Emma said calmly, somehow remembering the place Pinocchio had mentioned earlier even as her thoughts were racing almost too fast for her to keep up with.

 

“Us?” Walsh leaned forward again, picking up the same kind of strange quill she’d used at the library and holding it tightly, his eyes eager.

 

She cursed herself but schooled her features into one of deep confusion and slight betrayal, “Why are you asking me all these questions?  I’ve done nothing but come here to help a friend.”

 

“Yes, help him undermine an open investigation.  So I’ve heard,” Walsh said gruffly, tapping the quill on the edge of the desk. “Did he tell you what happened?”

 

“His brother was killed,” she said slowly, realizing that was all that Killian had told her.

 

“He was,” Walsh said, a small vicious smile unfurling on his lips, “You see, we’ve had a bit of trouble with smugglers using our small town as a way station for their assorted goods.  Thomas Jones just so happened to be their main contact, his job down at the docks giving him cover for being there at all hours along with knowledge of the harbor patrols and the habits of the others that worked there.  A pretty sweet gig for a man who barely finished high school.

 

“Of course it’s only good as long as you don’t start putting your hand in the cookie jar.  Word is a few things went missing here and there, payouts were short a couple hundred bucks, and it all seemed to point back to one man.  We only have circumstantial evidence, nothing concrete enough to satisfy the younger Jones brother, but all signs point to Thomas Jones being killed by one of his more nefarious contacts.

 

“The kicker, which makes this so much more amusing, is that Kieran Jones is now believed to be working with that same smuggling ring.  He’s seemed to convince himself that they have answers for him when we already have them here. So far all he’s gotten out of it is a missing hand and an arrest record that keeps growing.”

 

Emma was glad she hadn’t eaten the pastry that Walsh had brought her or really anything since she’d left Regina’s cottage earlier that day.  She felt nauseous, not because of the accusations Walsh was making against Killian but by the lengths gone by both him and Zelena to make his life miserable.  Swallowing thickly she hardened her resolve to break the curse as soon as possible, if only to end Killian’s suffering.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Emma asked, setting her cup down so she wouldn’t be tempted to throw the still hot coffee in Walsh’s face.

 

“I just want you to be aware of the type of people you’re associating with and the illicit activities they’re involved in.  Especially if you really are here to look into Thomas Jones’ death. Although now that I’ve warned you I’d have no choice but to arrest you as an accomplice if something were to happen while you were in Jones’ company,” Walsh said smugly.  He sat back in his chair and gave her a contemplative look, “Then again we might be able to work something out. We’ve hit a bit of a snag in our investigation but if you were to let us know times where Jones disappears or heads down to the docks I might be willing to look the other way where you’re concerned.”

 

Her jaw dropped in disbelief.  He was watching her, the smug smile still on his lips, seemingly confident that she would take his offer.  She regretted setting down her coffee and it was only the thinly veiled threat against her and Killian that stayed her hand.

 

“Kieran asked me to come here because he knows that something isn’t right about what he was told about his brother’s death.  Now I know what he means,” she grit out, gripping the armrests of her chair until her knuckles were white. “I’m not going to spy on him for you and I’m going to help him uncover the truth.  Whatever it may be.”

 

Walsh looked almost disappointed in her answer but she could see the gleam of triumph in his eyes.  They both jumped in surprise when the door Walsh had previously closed crashed open and Zelena was standing at the threshold.  Emma noticed the color high on her cheeks, her green eyes glittering with malevolence but she did nothing more than stand there, staring at her.

 

“Ma- Madame Mayor, we, uh, didn’t expect you for another hour or so,” Walsh stuttered, tripping over his feet as he stood. “I was just telling Miss, er, that is to say Eva here about some of the things we do-”

 

“Get out,” Zelena said, cutting him off without looking at him.

 

“Madame Mayor?”

 

Zelena finally tore her gaze from her and fixed Walsh with one of displeasure and impatience, “I said get out, go somewhere that’s not here and stay there.  And take your lackey with you. There are some things I’d like to discuss with Eva in private.”

 

“We can’t just leave the station unmanned!” Walsh gasped clearly taken off guard.

 

“I highly doubt the supposedly seedy underbelly of this town will know the difference,” Zelena scoffed.  She stepped into the office, opening up the doorway, “Go.”

 

Walsh’s face was a ruddy with anger and humiliation.  He shot her a look of disdain before storming out of the office, shouting at Robin to follow him.  Emma watched his fit of pique with only a little amusement, knowing that once he was gone there would be nothing between her and Zelena’s wrath.

 

They stayed silent, waiting for the sounds of the men leaving to end.  Emma was surprised to see that there were dark circles under Zelena’s eyes.  Upon closer inspection she noticed that her clothing was slightly rumpled while her striking red hair was hanging in limp curls over her shoulders.  She felt a zing of vindictive triumph that she was at least holding herself together marginally better than the woman in front of her.

 

“I think I liked him better as a winged monkey,” Zelena sighed.  She turned, fixing her with a malignant stare, “I also liked you better when you were merely looting my ships.”

 

“I can’t say the feeling’s mutual because I didn’t even know who the hell you were until that night at Regina’s palace,” Emma snarled, “I just have a pure hatred for you and what you’ve done.”

 

Zelena’s nostrils flared as she drew in a deep breath, “Oh, of that I have no doubt.  Seen your precious prince yet? I have so enjoyed watching him bumble about this town trying to figure out who killed his so-called brother all while avoiding the woman who’s made him more miserable than even I could have predicted she would.”

 

Emma jumped up from her chair, “You bitch.”

 

“I prefer Wicked Witch but that’s neither here nor there,” Zelena said with a flippant wave of her hand. “Have a seat, we have some things to discuss.”

 

“I don’t want to discuss anything with you.  I just want you to know that I’m going to break this curse and get everyone back where they belong.”

 

To her annoyance Zelena smiled, sitting down in the chair Walsh had occupied only moments before, “Sit down Princess, you’re going to want to hear what I have to say and once you have you’ll be just as keen as I am to keep this curse from being broken.”

 

“I doubt that,” she grumbled, reluctantly sitting back down and hating herself a bit for giving in so easily.

 

“Ah, but I have your attention and that’s really all I need,” Zelena trilled with a triumphant grin.  She tilted her head to consider her, “How did you get here? I thought all the magic beans had been used or destroyed.”

 

“Not all of them,” she said grudgingly.

 

“Of course not-” Zelena sneered, “You hero types always find a way don’t you.”

 

“I had sufficient motivation.”

 

“That has been one of the few highlights in this wretched land, knowing that I had your prince under my heel, effectively throwing a wrench in your treacly romance.  Not quite as satisfying as watching my sister flounder about this land in rags with everyone thinking she’s some mad hag but there was still some joy in it.”

 

Emma stood so quickly she knocked her chair over.  Her hand flew to her side, fingers grabbing for the sword that wasn’t there.  She was about to dive for the dagger in her boot when the sound of Zelena’s voice broke through her rage.

 

“Did you never wonder whose heart I used for the curse?”

 

“I assumed it was plucked out of the chest of one of your black knights or some innocent servant who wronged you in some tiny way,” Emma spit out.

 

“For the Dark Curse?” Zelena scoffed. “I knew you weren’t practiced in magic but I didn’t think you’d be so daft.”

 

“Say whatever it is you need to say or I’m leaving and the next time we cross paths I won’t be leaving my sword on the ship.”

 

“Ship?  Are you joking? No, clearly you're not,” Zelena said with a roll of her eyes. “We’ll discuss the impracticality of that later.  There's something I need to show you.”

 

Emma bit back a scream, “I thought you had to tell me something.”

 

“I do and I can say it just as well while we're walking-” Zelena stood and immediately walked out the door.  Without looking back she called over her shoulder, “Come along, Princess, this is the only way you'll get the answers you so desperately want.”

 

She stayed stubbornly standing in the office until she heard the door of the station closing with a distant slam.  It took a few deep breaths remembering why exactly she was there in the first place before she resigned herself to chasing after her.  With a frustrated kick to the chair on the ground she stalked out of the office.

 

Zelena already had a considerable lead on her when she stepped out of the building.  She refused to give her the satisfaction of forcing her to quicken her pace, ambling half a length behind her.  Finally Zelena stopped, swinging around to face her with a snarl.

 

“Would you hurry it up?  I have a meeting with the parks department at four.”

 

“Why should I?  You're the one wasting my time!” Emma snapped, not caring who heard her.

 

“And if you hadn't dawdled you'd have some answers already,” Zelena huffed, quickly crossing the roadway as soon as she caught up. “It was always supposed to be me who cast the curse but the imp lied to me and chose my undeserving sister instead.  She couldn't even go through with it! The weak willed bitch.

 

“When she failed to act I saw my opportunity.  It was almost too easy to strike her down in her own palace and accomplish everything she'd ever failed at.  What I failed to take into account was the unceasing determination you heroes have when you take up a cause.”

 

“You stole my kingdom, imprisoned my parents, killed hundreds of innocent people, including Killian's father and his best friend-” Emma seethed, barely keeping herself from reaching out to strangle the witch. “If you're looking for sympathy, then fuck you”

 

“Sympathy?  Please-” Zelena scoffed without breaking her stride, “I’m trying to get you up to speed.  I cast the curse to finally have my time without belittling myself by wearing that bitch’s face.  But there was a cost.”

 

“A heart.  I know,” Emma growled.

 

Zelena stopped suddenly in front of a door causing Emma to nearly walk into her.  When she turned to look back at her she had something close to regret in her eyes, “The price to cast the curse was one I should have thought twice about paying.”

 

She had brought them to a shop that seemed to sell all manner of things.  Emma looked up at the sign hanging over the door. She was unsure what a pawnbroker was but she had heard the name Mr. Gold from both Killian and Regina and knew he was a man of importance.

 

Just as she was about to ask who exactly Mr. Gold was in their land she noticed someone over Zelena’s shoulder, watching her from the side of the shop.  She sighed quietly in relief when she realized it was Turner and had to bite the inside of her cheek against a laugh when Killian’s head popped around the corner too.  Both were watching her with matching looks of concern but she could do nothing to signal that she was alright without tipping off Zelena to their presence.

 

“Word’s already gotten around that you’re here as some sort of private eye so if he asks keep up that ridiculous lie,” Zelena said with barely concealed disdain.   She put her hand on the doorknob and fixed her with a narrowed glare, “Whatever you do don’t answer any question that requires more than three words to answer. We can at least keep the damage to a minimum that way.”

 

Zelena turned to push open the door causing Turner and Killian to quickly disappear around the corner again.  She held the door open expectantly and Emma had no choice but to follow her in without pause. Her only solace was that Killian had done as she asked and it gave her a glimmer of hope that breaking the curse might not be as difficult as she had been dreading.

 

The interior of the shop was dark from the dim shaft of light that streamed through dusty windows and the dark stained wood that lined the floors and walls.  It took a moment for Emma’s eyes to adjust and when they did she couldn’t hide her astonishment.

 

Nearly every nook and cranny was filled with all manner of objects.  There were several long encasements made of glass displaying more odds and ends along with a few more that stood upright spread throughout the shop.  The walls were made of shelves to house more things and there were even items hanging from the ceiling. She was so enthralled by the sheer number of oddities that she didn’t notice there was a man behind one of the glass encasements until he moved out from behind it.

 

He walked with a pronounced limp, using a cane to keep his balance as he approached them. Emma observed him curiously.  He was older than her parents, thin in build with light brown hair that hung loose about his face. There was nothing remarkable about him except for his eyes, they somehow seemed to gleam in the gloom of the shop.  Even before anyone uttered his name she knew the man was Mr. Gold but she couldn’t recall ever meeting him back in their land.

 

“Afternoon Madame Mayor,” he said in an accent that somehow sounded like it was from everywhere and nowhere at once.  His glittering eyes flitted to her before settling back on Zelena, “I’m afraid the object you’re interested in is still not for sale.  Bringing in someone else to try and negotiate that point won’t change my mind.”

 

“I’m not here for that ostentatious bauble,” Zelena huffed, waving her hand as though she didn’t care but Emma had seen a vein in her temple throb.  She sniffed and nodded at her, “This is Eva. Eva this is Mr. Gold.”

 

“Ah, one of the newcomers that has the authorities in this town in an uproar,” Gold said with a smile, revealing a single golden tooth. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, dearie.”

 

Emma felt a cold chill run down her back at the endearment.  It pulled at something in her memories, something dark and foreboding.  Before she had a chance to grasp at what it could be it danced away from her.  She felt unsettled and gave Gold a tremulous smile that she hoped would suffice as a greeting.

 

“If you’re not here about the necklace may I ask why you are here?  It’s the beginning of the month and there are still rents I need to collect,” Gold said a bit impatiently, an expectant look on his face.

 

“Eva is working on a pet project, you might say,” Zelena said as she walked slowly around the shop.  She stopped in front of an encasement that appeared to have a sword inside, “Eva?”

 

“Oh, uh-” Emma rocked back on her heels, unsure what to say when Zelena had instructed her not to utter more than a sentence.  A sudden wave of nervousness overcame her as Gold regarded her closely, “Is there, er, anything you might know about Tommy Jones’ death?”

 

Gold’s eyes widened slightly, as though he had expected a different question from her.  He smiled again but there was a sinister edge to it, “Thomas Jones was a blight on this town and while his death was unfortunate there are not many who were sorry to see him pass.  Unfortunately his foolish younger brother seems intent on not only pursuing innocent parties to blame for it but also straying down the same path that got Thomas killed in the first place.  Take it from me, dearie, you should bury your questions with the dead before you end up six feet under as well.”

 

While Gold’s tone was one of caution Emma felt a sense of glee underlying his words.  Her sense of unease only heightened as she tried to formulate any kind of adequate response as Gold watched her expectantly.

 

“I’ll take the risk if it means I can help Kieran finally learn the truth about what happened-” she turned and glared at Zelena, “No one deserves to be lied to like that.”

 

“I see you believe you have a measure of the situation, Miss-”

 

Emma looked back at Gold finding him looking at her with far more interest than he had before.  She wasn’t certain but she thought she saw his eyes gleam yellow for a moment, disconcerting her even further.

 

“White,” she blurted out.  Taking a deep breath to get ahold of herself she decided to attempt to gain back some iota of control that she had lost the moment Walsh had appeared at Sunset Storybrooke,  “Are you suggesting that you know something?”

 

“I never implied anything of the sort,” Gold said pressing a hand to his chest, seemingly taken aback.  He dropped the same hand on top of the one already holding his cane and leaned towards her to speak in a low tone, “It’s common knowledge that Thomas Jones was killed by men who have broken moral compasses.  If they would do that to a man they knew and made deals with who knows what they would do to a stranger that pokes their nose where it doesn’t belong. I’m only thinking about your well-being, Miss White.”

 

“I can take care of myself well enough,” she said, lifting her chin and holding his gaze. “Do you or do you not know anything about Tommy Jones’ death?”

 

Gold’s lip twitched as he settled back on his heels, “I don’t know anything more than what was printed in the papers.  The misters Jones were tenants of mine but other than collecting their rent I had no further interactions with them. Is that answer satisfactory enough?”

 

“It’ll do,” she sniffed.

 

Emma felt accomplished, even though she had done nothing more than stand up for herself.  Zelena cleared her throat, causing both her and Gold to snap their attention to her. She had completely forgotten Zelena was there in her attempt to try and stay afloat under Gold’s scrutiny.

 

“I believe we’re done here,” Zelena said shortly.  She looked at Gold with a sneer, “We don’t want to keep you from collecting your dues.”

 

“That attitude doesn’t do you any favors, dearie,” Gold tsked, limping back to the encasement he had been behind before. “Feel free to stop in if you have any other questions Miss White.  You’ll find I’m quite agreeable when the mood suits me.”

 

She gave him a close lipped smile, pushing down the impulse to scoff at the idea that she’d ever return on her own.  Zelena pushed past her and wrenched open the door, causing the bell attached to it to ring wildly. Rolling her eyes she turned to follow but stopped short when a glint of silver caught her eye.

 

Without a thought she drew closer to a small glass enclosed display of various pieces of jewelry.  Sitting amongst the necklaces and bracelets of gold and pearls was a lone ring. It was finely crafted out of thin woven bands of both gold and silver.  Emma didn’t need a closer look to know it was the ring she had made for Killian back in Arendelle. The one she had conjured out of thin air because she hadn’t known how to fully express what she felt for him, that he had worn on his left thumb from possibly the moment he had received it until Zelena had cut off the entire hand in a vicious act of petty revenge.

 

“Is this ring- how much for this ring?” She asked with a warble she didn’t have a hope to hide.

 

“Well, let’s see now,” Gold trilled as he made his way over.  He opened the back of the display and pulled out the cushion the ring was sitting on, “Lovely piece, clearly unique and possibly handmade, I couldn’t possibly let it go for less than three hundred dollars.”

 

She didn’t know if it was a fair price or not and she didn’t care.  Ignoring the tapping of Zelena’s foot by the door she reached into her coat and pulled out the small sack of gold coins she had with her.

 

“All I have are these-” she dumped the entire contents of the sack onto the glass counter, “You can have it all.”

 

There were at least thirty coins spread across the glass counter.  It was a fortune back in their land, enough to feed a family for nearly a year.  Zelena made choked noise behind her but she ignored it, focusing on Gold and the way his eyes raked over the bounty.  He picked up a single coin and weighed it in his hand, bringing it up under his nose to inspect it closer.

 

“I’ll tell you what, Miss White-” Gold walked the coin over his knuckles and into his palm, gripping it in a tight fist.  He smiled, his gold tooth flashing in the light, “I’m not going to take any of these for the ring. Just one of them is enough to pay for it three times over.”

 

“What do you want?  Anything, it’s yours.”

 

“Em- Eva!” Zelena hissed. “Don’t offer him an open ended deal like that.  He’ll only use it against you.”

 

“Now, now, Madame Mayor I believe the deal is between myself and Miss White.  If you’d be so kind as to keep out of it,” Gold snapped, glaring at Zelena. He looked back at her with a predatory smile, “The ring is yours.  All I want for it is a favor.”

 

“What kind of favor?” she asked warily, belatedly realizing that she had waded in too deep.

 

“Oh, that I don’t know quite yet-” Gold opened his fist and the coin was gone.  He snapped the fingers of his other hand and the coin was there, her family crest gleaming up at her, “but when the time comes I expect you to comply, fully.”

 

Emma hesitated, trying in vain to remember who Gold could have been in Misthaven.  Looking back down at the ring she decided she didn’t care. She knew that Killian deserved to have a piece of himself back, even if he had no recollection of what it meant to him or her.

 

“Okay,” she agreed, making sure to look him straight in the eye as she did.

 

“Excellent,” he grinned, dropping the coing in his hand onto the counter with the others.  He deftly plucked the ring off its cushion and held it out to her, “I believe this is yours now.”

 

Her hand was steady as she held it out to him.  Gold dropped it easily into her palm, watching her beadily as she slipped it onto the thumb of her right hand.  It sat there loosely, twisting round and nearly slipping off her thumb as she began to scoop the pile of coins back into her sack.  Clicking his tongue in impatience Gold pulled a simple golden chain from the display the ring had come from.

 

“Here, a little added gift-” he unclasped it and let it snake onto the counter amidst the few coins that remained. “No need to give it back once you’ve given the ring to whomever it’s intended for, of course.  Consider it a signing bonus if you will.”

 

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

 

Ignoring Zelena’s scoff Emma delicately picked it up and slid the ring onto it.  It took her a moment’s fumbling with numb fingers to work the clasp for herself to fasten it around her neck.  The ring felt heavier than it should, as though the weight of her deal with Gold had somehow leaked into the gold and silver bands.  She quickly dumped the rest of the coins in the sack and gave Gold a brief nod of farewell.

 

Before she could rush out the door he called after her, “I do hope to see you again, dearie.  Perhaps with less of a hovering eye next time.”

 

Zelena growled low in her throat as she practically pushed Emma out the door.  She blinked in the sunlight, bright after the dimness of the shop, as she slid the sack of coins back into the pocket they had been in before.  Her fingers immediately went to worry at the ring hanging around her neck when she turned back to face Zelena, belatedly remembering that Turner and Killian were close by.

 

“Why did you bring me here?  Who was that man back-”

 

“Not here,” Zelena hissed.  She looked back and forth along the roadway before her gaze settled on something, “Follow me.”

 

She set off across the roadway, heedless to the cars passing by.  Emma followed, wincing at the loud blare of noise coming from the cars in their wake.  Looking quickly back behind her she saw Turner and Killian emerging from around the corner of Gold’s shop.  She gave them a quick nod before focusing back on where Zelena was leading her.

 

They didn’t go far.  Zelena hardly stopped as she wrenched open the door to the library, impatiently waving Emma inside.  She caught a glimpse of Turner and Killian crossing the roadway before she stepped into the vestibule.  Pinocchio was sitting behind the desk but stood up quickly when Zelena slammed the door shut behind her.

 

“Mayor Viridans!  How can I hel-”

 

“Sit down and mind your own business Booth,” Zelena snapped.  She stalked over to the large metal door Emma had noticed on her first visit, “This is between Miss White and I.”

 

“Miss White?” Pinocchio raised his brow at her and Emma could only shrug in response.

 

Zelena opened the door revealing a metal gate and a tiny room beyond it.  Lifting the gate she ushered Emma in with a click of her tongue and another wave of her hand.  She had never had a problem with confined spaces before but she still stepped into the room with hesitation, unwilling to be in such a small space with Zelena for company.

 

A shiver of warning slid down her spine as Zelena fiddled with a lever before slamming the gate down.  Immediately the room moved and Emma backed into the corner, bracing herself against the walls.

 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake it’s just an elevator,” Zelena huffed, tapping her toe in irritation. “It’s taking us from one floor to another instead of bothering with stairs.  God, I forgot how primitive the Enchanted Forest is.”

 

Before she could ask why Zelena had called their land the Enchanted Forest the room came to a stop.  A set of doors slid open revealing a cavernous room with a twisting metal staircase leading to a landing under the backside of a clock face.  As Zelena lifted the gate Emma noticed the cogs and gears of the clockworks suspended in the middle of the room. It was loud, almost deafening and she understood the reason Zelena had brought her there to talk.

 

“Are you finally going to give me some answers?  Who was that man back in our land? What does he have to do with the Dark Curse?” Emma asked as she stepped into the room, once more fiddling with the ring.

 

“That thing you talked to back there isn’t a man.  Not anymore,” Zelena muttered, barely loud enough to hear over the cacophony of sounds in the room as she stepped into it herself.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The Dark Curse is called that for a reason.  You don’t cast it using rainbows and happy thoughts,” Zelena scoffed.

 

“I know that,” Emma bit out, fighting the urge to scream at the circles they were talking in. “You needed a heart.”

 

“Not just any heart,” Zelena’s annoyance dropped away immediately and she looked at Emma with sorrowful eyes. “You need the heart of the thing you love the most.”

 

“The thing… so you killed the thing you loved the most to get some kind of petty revenge?  Guess Regina really does have a conscience if she couldn’t go through with it.”

 

“Would you stop being so goddamn glib for a second and listen!” Zelena screeched.  She took a deep breath as she focused intently on her, “If Regina had cast the curse she would have had to kill her father to do it.  I on the other hand loathed the man who raised me and resented the woman who birthed me. There was seemingly no one who came even close to fulfilling what was needed to cast the curse.  That was until it was pointed out to me by my mentor that there was someone that I did love, him, and in nearly the same breath he told me he didn’t want anything to do with me, not if I would have to kill him to cast the curse.

 

“That was the whole point of him teaching me, molding me into the most powerful sorceress in the realms.  He just needed someone to cast that damn curse to get him here, to the Land Without Magic. He chose Regina, spineless bitch that she is, when I was clearly the only one capable.  I hated him with every fibre of my being for that. So when the time came I knew that the line between love and hate might be thin enough to work.”

 

The phrase pulled at Emma’s memories and she said slowly, “You said that, before.  Before you crushed the heart, you said that.”

 

“I didn’t find out until we’d been here for a week what a grievous mistake I had made,” Zelena continued, ignoring her. “I saw him, limping down the street as though nothing had happened.  He’s just as cursed as everyone else but I could see it. Deep in his eyes it’s there or should I say it isn’t there.”

 

“Zelena, who was he?” She asked impatiently, even as she was beginning to dread the answer.

 

“You haven’t figured it out by now?” Zelena asked with a hysterical giggle. “Who but the Dark One would know how to cast the Dark Curse and then manipulate others to do it for him?  Who do you think is powerful enough to somehow still live despite his heart being crushed?”

 

“But… that’s-”

 

“Impossible?  Not as much as you or I would think-” Zelena began to pace, “The only way I can figure it is Dark One has always been someone who was cursed with the Darkness, a mortal, but the Darkness itself is immortal.  For centuries it’s slid from one host to another through the use of the Dagger to end the previous Dark One but it’s never been defeated, never killed. I didn’t use the Dagger, I merely crushed the heart of the man whose been playing its host.  The Darkness is now the only thing in that body and the curse is the only thing keeping it from realizing it.”

 

A chill settled over Emma as the words sunk in.  She had heard tales of the atrocities committed by the Dark One, not only from her own parents and the whispers of others but from numerous history books and old tales told over too many pints in taverns far from Misthaven.  He had been imprisoned for the entirety of her life, captured through the machinations of Princess Ella and her parents. While she had never even seen a glimpse of him she had always been afraid of the possibility of him escaping his prison and exacting his revenge.

 

“So do you see why you can’t break the curse?”

 

“What?” Emma croaked out, shaking her head in confusion. “I’m going to break the curse.”

 

“If you break this curse you’ll be defeating me, yes, but you’ll be damning everyone and everything in the same moment,” Zelena said slowly, as though she were talking to a child. “The Dark One has always had a weakness and it was never the dagger that controls him, not entirely at least.  The Darkness has been held in check by its vessel, the morality and conscience the person had before succumbing to it. Even the worst of them had some piece of it left or the passing of the Darkness from one person to another would have stopped at some point. If the curse is broken it will have nothing to hold it back, nothing to keep some kind of tenuous hold on it.  It will destroy everything in this town before moving on to the world beyond and then finding a way to travel to other realms to do the same. It will never stop until it holds control over it all.”

 

Emma could barely hear Zelena over the buzzing in her ears.  She felt lightheaded and gasped for air. Black spots danced in front of her as she bent forward, balancing herself with her hands on her knees.  Slowly her head cleared and she straightened.

 

“You’re lying,” she panted.

 

“I assure you I’m not,” Zelena sighed. “You can ask Regina if you truly don’t believe me.”

 

She merely stared at her, willing her to take back everything she had said.

 

“Or don’t I really don’t care.  Come along, Princess, I have a meeting to get to.”

 

The ride back down to the ground floor wasn’t as harrowing if only because her thoughts were decidedly focused on whether or not to believe what Zelena had told her.  She stepped back into the vestibule feeling as though she had lived an entire lifetime in the room above. Pinocchio was fidgeting in front of his desk, his eyes shooting to the library beyond when he caught her gaze.

 

“Do you need anything Ma’am?” He asked, shifting from foot to foot.

 

“Of course not,” Zelena shot back.  She looked back at her, “The decision is up to you, I won’t try to stop you.  Oh and feel free to bring your… ship into the harbor. No need for such cloak and dagger now is there?”

 

Zelena swept out of the library, leaving Emma gaping behind her.  She heard Pinocchio breathe a sigh of relief as he moved across the vestibule, closing up the small room once again.  A hand landed on her shoulder causing her to jump in surprise.

 

“Easy, lass, it’s just us.”

 

She spun on her heel and saw that it was Killian, looking at her with concern.  Turner was standing a few paces behind him, staring angrily at the door that Zelena had disappeared through.

 

“I- we have to go.  Turner, we need to go.  Now,” she rambled, avoiding Killian’s gaze.

 

“Of course-” Turner stepped around Killian and looked at her carefully. “Are you alright?”

 

“Fine, I’m fine.  We need to go,” she repeated.

 

Turner nodded and she took in a shaky breath before turning to leave.  She heard Pinocchio murmuring something to Killian behind her but paid them no attention.  Her mind was still trying to comprehend everything that Zelena had told her and her only coherent thought was to get to Regina as quickly as possible.

 

She weaved through the town as quickly as she could without breaking into a panicked run.  Turner was keeping pace behind her, quiet aside from the sound of his boots hitting the ground.  They reached the woods quickly and Emma pushed on faster, single minded in her pursuit.

 

When she reached the cliff overlooking their cove she skidded to a stop, nearly tumbling over the edge.  She was saved by a hand grabbing her elbow and when she turned to thank Turner she was caught off guard to see Killian there instead.

 

“Careful lass,” he said as he gently urged her to take a step back, “You mind telling me why you just tore through the town like the devil was at your heels?”

 

“What are you doing here?” She snapped, her tenuous control on her emotions at a breaking point.

 

“I-” he dropped her elbow, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “You just left, first with Baum and then you spend nearly an hour with the woman we’re trying to take down before taking off again.  What happened? Why did she take you to the pawn shop?”

 

“She… I-” she looked helplessly at Turner who was at Killian’s side.  The absurdity that she wanted to talk to him about what had happened and not Killian wasn’t lost on her.  She took a deep breath and said as resolutely as she could, “You need to go.”

 

“What?  Why?”

 

“It’s between me and my crew.”

 

“Then let me come aboard the ship.  We’re supposed to be helping each other, right?” His eyebrows drew down as he looked at her more carefully. “Right?”

 

“I’m sorry but you have to go,” she said resolutely even as her voice started to tremble.

 

He narrowed his eyes and looked her over as though he would find something amiss. “What did she say to you?”

 

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

 

“You’re lying,” he said matter of factly.  He stepped closer to her and said in a low voice, “You can trust me, lass.”

 

“Kil- Jones, I do but this… this is something I have to handle myself.”

 

“Just you and your ‘crew’, yeah?” Killian spat as the look in his eyes hardened to a glare and he took two steps back. “Whatever it was Viridans told you was a lie.  I hope you realize that sooner rather than later and when you do I’ll be waiting.”

 

He gave her a hard grin that was more akin to a sneer before pivoting on his heel and stalking back the way they had come.  Her hand found its way to his ring, gripping it tight enough in her fist that she was only marginally worried about drawing blood.  She jumped slightly when Turner gently touched her elbow.

 

“What’s going on Emma?”

 

“Not here,” she whispered, fighting back tears.

 

She barely paid attention as they made their way back to the Jewel.  It was well into dusk, the sky to the east already donning the dark blues of impending night.  There was movement on deck and she hoped whomever it was would alert the others that they were back.  What she had learned was horrible enough without having to repeat it more than once.

 

What little luck she had was on her side.  Everyone was waiting expectantly with varying degrees of disapproval on their faces as she hoisted herself over the rail.  As soon as both her feet were on the deck she crossed over to Regina.

 

“Who is Mr. Gold?”

 

“You sneak away at the crack of dawn like an impetuous teenager and that’s the first thing out of your mouth instead of an apology for stranding us here?” Regina snapped, setting her hands firmly on her hips. “Why the hell were you talking to him anyway?  What happened this time that we’ll have to scramble to clean up after?”

 

“Dammit Regina!” Her frustrated shout echoed across the water. “Who is he?  In our land, who is he?”

 

“Of course you wouldn’t know who he is.  Your goody two shoes parents wouldn’t dream of taking you to see him,” Regina said derisively, rolling her eyes. “He’s the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin.  Just traded one prison for another with the curse.”

 

“No-”

 

Emma felt her knees buckle and someone grabbed her elbow to steady her.

 

“It’s not like he knows who he is,” Regina scoffed. “I tested him one or two times and he’s just as cursed as everyone else.  Which isn’t a shock, I would have done the same thing if I had cast the curse.”

 

“Maybe you should have,” Emma spat out.

 

Her temper was getting the better of her but she welcomed it.  Anything was better than the despair that was cresting, ready to wash away everything else and leave her drowning in despair.

 

“Excuse me?” Regina said in shock, her hands falling off her hips in surprise.

 

“Maybe you should have cast the curse, crushed your father’s heart and been done with it!  Then we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess!”

 

“Emma what are you talking about?” Grace asked, her face twisting into a look of concern.

 

“You need a heart-” Emma snarled, “but not just any heart, it has to be from the thing you love the most.  Right Regina? Any guesses on who Zelena loved the most?”

 

“That’s- that’s impossible,” Regina stuttered, color draining from her face leaving her ashen. “She’s lying.  It would have killed him. She has to be lying.”

 

“Can you think of anyone else who would have worked?  Can you?” Emma challenged her. She felt wholly unlike herself but couldn’t seem to stop, “Maybe it should have been you.  After all Zelena said the line between love and hate was pretty much nonexistent.”

 

“Emma!” Grace gasped.

 

“It can’t- she-” Regina stuttered into silence, her eyes wide with terror.

 

“I don’t understand-” Marty said slowly, looking around the deck in confusion. “What does it mean?”

 

Emma slumped, the fight and anger draining from her in an instant with the innocence of Marty’s question.  All around her the others were slowly reaching the same terrifying conclusion. She could see it in the way they stood bowed by defeat, the look of horror in their eyes.  When she spoke her voice was choked with the tears that had already begun coursing down her cheeks.

 

“It means we can never break the curse.”

 

For the first time she truly wished that the curse had taken her too.  She knew it was the only way she wouldn’t have had to feel the utter devastation of her hopes and her heart shattering beyond repair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've had this idea brewing for a long time but I will admit that not being able to break the curse because of bad consequences was slightly influenced by the most recent season. Of course as my sister likes to say I take the convoluted and holey canon and make into something that makes a kind of sense. Such as the Dark One existing without the man is my spin on the whole Rumple's darkened heart thing of season 4b. Also sorry not sorry about the minimal amount of Killian this chapter but he'll be back in fine form in the next one.
> 
> Next: Coming out of hiding, options to consider, and a tense conversation or two (possibly three).


	15. Should I Stay or Should I Go

“I don’t see why I can’t just go ashore by myself!  You said we don’t have to worry about Zelena anymore, right?”

 

“Just because we don’t have to worry about her doesn’t mean there aren’t hundreds of other ways to get into trouble.  Especially when you have no clue how anything in this land works.”

 

Emma watched Marty and Turner argue with little interest.  She didn’t have much interest in anything at all but she was trying to put on a good show for everyone else.  They were treating her as though she were moments away from a breakdown but she only felt numb. It was easier to act as though her world hadn’t imploded with a false smile than staring blankly out at the water waiting for another pointless day to end.

 

Nearly a week had passed and it was the first time she had emerged above deck since the day Zelena had told her the awful truth about the curse.  Emma had stayed holed up in her quarters for the first few days, only emerging to give Turner the order to sail the Jewel into the town’s harbor. There had been a small snowstorm not long after she’d given the order and she tried not to think of it as a sign of some sort.  The next day they had moored the Jewel in an empty berth with little fanfare. She’d forced herself to remain below deck in order to resist the temptation of going to Killian to explain everything. It was also an attempt to keep herself from returning to Gold’s shop to try and see if she could discern if he was truly a heartless Dark One or not.

 

It was currently the morning of their second day anchored in the harbor and she had reluctantly emerged on deck when she had heard raised voices.  Discovering that Marty was simply having another fit about having to stay on board had irked her at first, mostly because she had been forced to leave the confines of the lower decks.  She was about to escape back down into her quarters when she heard someone shouting for permission to come aboard.

 

Exchanging a shocked look with both Marty and Turner she quickly walked to look over the port side rail to the docks below.  She did nothing to hide her frown when she saw that it was Walsh standing there.

 

“Ah, good to see you Miss White!” He called up to her with an insincere grin. “I’d like to speak to the, uh, captain of this boat.”

 

“It’s a ship and you are,” she said back, leaning her hip against the rail and crossing her arms. “What can I do for you Sheriff?”

 

“Can I come up?  I’d prefer not to keep shouting at you, especially with the matter we need to discuss-” he said, his grin mellowing into a stern look.

 

She gave him a terse nod and his grin bloomed again as he began to climb the gangplank.  As much as she didn’t want him on her ship she was even less willing to step off the Jewel herself.  Moments before his head appeared over the rail she heard the sounds of others emerging from below. With a sigh of frustration she turned to find that everyone was grouped below the helm, watching Walsh step on deck.  She heard his surprised intake of breath and rolled her eyes before turning back to address him.

 

“Welcome aboard the Jewel, Sheriff,” she drawled, lazily waving her arm to present the ship.  She then waved over her shoulder, “This is my crew.”

 

“Ah-” Walsh’s eyes roamed over the deck and those at her back, wide and with seemingly reluctant respect. “Can we, uh, maybe go somewhere a bit more private?”

 

“I’m going to have to say no.  The last time I had a private conversation with you you threatened me before forcing me to choose between saving my own hide or Jones’,” she said with a raised brow. “I think wanting a few others hear what you have to say to me is understandable.”

 

Walsh bristled, his jaw ticking and his hands clenching into fists at his side.  There was a low chuckle behind her that she believed was Roland but didn’t want to look to be sure.  They still weren’t on the best of terms even in light of recent revelations. That he was showing his support of her, in the smallest of possible ways, had her squaring her shoulders, ready to square off against Walsh as long as was needed.

 

“I received a call this morning from the harbormaster,” Walsh grit out.  Then, unexpectedly, his eyes lit up with malicious glee, “He reported that a boat, oh sorry, ship had docked without permission or payment.  Thought I might take a gander and lo and behold it’s something that belongs in a museum and it’s supposedly yours. Am I to believe you sailed this here?  I mean, you did say that Jones had picked you up in Portland, right?”

 

“She is mine and of course I sailed her here,” Emma spat back, incensed at his condescending tone. “Since you can’t even seem to believe that much can you blame me for telling you something your small mind would find easier to understand?”

 

“Watch your tone Miss White!” Walsh snapped. “You wouldn’t want to go back to the station in cuffs now would you?”

 

“I’d like to see you try,” she said with a smirk, resting her hand on her hip, a finger width away from the hilt of her sword. 

 

“Now now, that could be seen as threatening an officer,” he rebuked with a disapproving click of his tongue.  He placed his hands on his own hips, revealing a leather harness with what appeared to be a small black firearm holstered in it, “We don’t want things to get messy here.  How about you come back to the station with me and we can sort this all out like civilized folks.”

 

“Wouldn’t she take it up with the harbormaster?” Regina asked, the sneer evident in her voice.

 

“If I wanted your input Ms. Mills I would have asked for it.  Come along Miss White.”

 

“I thought I told you to leave them alone.”

 

“Madam Mayor!”

 

Walsh spun around so fast that Emma wondered if he had been trained to do so at the sound of Zelena’s voice.  For her part she merely rolled her eyes and blew out a frustrated breath as the woman appeared over the rail. She gazed longingly at the hatch leading down to her quarters, resigning herself to dealing with the two people in the whole town she wanted to interact with the least.

 

“I never gave you permission to board,” Emma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

 

“As if you wouldn’t make me wait a god awful amount of time for it,” Zelena scoffed.  She looked at Walsh, “Baum isn’t there a jaywalker you need to scold or some school children that need to be scared straight?”

 

“Er, no but there was a complaint-”

 

“Miss White and her… companions have brought their ship here at my request for the Founder’s Day festivities.  Which is why I’m here-” Zelena gave her a wide, beaming smile. “I believe we had an appointment?”

 

“Madam Mayor-”

 

Zelena’s eyes slid to Walsh and when she spoke it was with a quiet fury, “I believe I told you to go.”

 

Emma couldn’t see his face but from the way his shoulders stiffened she knew he wasn’t taking kindly to the order.  She half expected him to argue further with the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Instead he threw her a disdainful look over his shoulder and stormed off the ship, seemingly murmuring to himself the entire way.

 

“Ever since you showed up he’s started getting a mind of his own,” Zelena sighed.  She frowned as her eyes scanned the deck, “I thought you’d have a… better crew put together.  Then again the one you had before was hardly a good effort so I shouldn’t be surprised.”

 

“Tell me what you’re doing here, now, or you can get the hell off my ship,” Emma snapped.

 

“Not out here where practically everyone within earshot can hear us.  Especially when there is more than one person in this town who shouldn’t hear what I have to say,” Zelena said with a roll of her eyes.

 

Emma could practically feel the others tensing behind her, ready to argue over one thing or another.  Not wanting Walsh to turn back or attract the attention of any passerby she threw a glare over her shoulder at her unhappy crew.  She turned back to Zelena and indicated the hatch leading down to the lower decks.

 

“After you.”

 

With a look of disgust curling her lip Zelena climbed down into the ship.  Emma went to follow and saw disappointment looking back at her from nearly everyone else.  In a bizarre twist Regina was the only one who wasn’t. Instead she was looking down into the bowels of the ship with a mixture of awe and disgust.  As she stepped down into the dim bowels of the ship Emma could only hope that someone wouldn’t end up with some kind of injury before too long.

 

They ended up settling in the galley.  She’d had a passing thought of leading Zelena into her cabin but it was too personal and with the way the others had followed her it wasn’t large enough to hold them all.  As it was they had to cram themselves around the table with Roland and Turner forced to stand back by the doorway as there weren’t enough chairs. Zelena scowled at her but Emma merely scowled back and settled back in her chair.

 

“Alright, we’re here where no one can hear us.  What do you want?”

 

“Did you have to allow the peanut gallery to join us?” Zelena sniffed, obviously annoyed at the company.

 

“It’s either that or I escort you off the ship,” Roland growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“If I had my magic I’d turn you into one of my monkeys just to watch you dance.”

 

“Stop threatening my crew or I’ll help him throw you overboard,” Emma said, glaring at Zelena and trying not to smile at the thought of tossing her into the freezing harbor.  “I’m not going to ask again: Why are you here?”

 

“This is the first time you’ve deigned to show your face in week-” Zelena glared back, “and I need reassurance that you won’t be breaking the curse.  There’s a lot at stake here.”

 

“Why should we even trust you?  How do we know you’re not lying just to keep this warped reality you reign over in tact?” Regina snarled.

 

“Please, you think I warned you out of the kindness of my heart?  Who do you think that beast will kill first if the curse is broken?  I'm merely trying to save my own neck and if that means aligning myself with you then so be it,” Zelena huffed, looking as though she had just swallowed a lemon.

 

“Why his heart?  Why any of this for that matter?” Regina asked, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’d already beaten me,  I was at your mercy and you had everything. You didn’t need to cast the curse.”

 

“Of course I did,” Zelena spat out. “He didn’t think I would do it for all the reasons you stated and more.  I had to prove him wrong, show him that he had underestimated me, again. And I didn’t have everything, your face did.  I had to fix that as well.”

 

“Unbelievable,” Regina scoffed. “I knew you were the jealous type but I had no idea you were this insane.  When the Savior breaks the curse I’m going to enjoy watching him snap your neck.”

 

“She’s not going to break the curse,” Zelena said confidently.  She smirked at Emma, “Not when she’s of the same ilk as her hero parents.”

 

“If we-” Emma hesitated, the words catching in her throat. “If we don’t break the curse then the people here will be miserable for the rest of their lives.  They won’t ever remember who they were- are. They won’t know that they’re missing pieces of themselves, that there are people they lo-love that they think are nothing but another face they walk by day after day.  Or worse they won’t know them at all. It’s not fair.”

 

“Life’s not fair, princess, anyone who tells you different it just selling something,” Zelena said with a roll of her eyes. “You break the curse the darkest of Dark Ones wreaks havoc on every realm he can get his scaly carcass to.  You don’t and people live blissfully ignorant lives where they don’t even know what the hell they’re missing anyway. I believe that should simplify your choice.”

 

“For someone without morals perhaps,” Grace murmured from her seat at the corner of the table.

 

“We can argue this round and round until we’re blue in the face but eventually you’ll have to decide,” Zelena said, pointedly glaring at Grace.

 

“I need more time-”

 

“You’ve already had a week!” Zelena growled.

 

“And I’ve spent over a year believing I was coming here to break the curse!” Emma snapped back, flames of anger licking up her spine. “I scoured our land for any clue as to what you did, where you could have sent everyone, and when I found something to lead me here I had to find a way to actually cross realms.  For every second of every day since you cast the curse and up until this very moment I’ve had a prophecy hanging over my head, declaring me as a savior because for some reason I’m the one fated to break it. Then you come along and tell me in no uncertain terms that I can’t because you made a mistake that could cost us everything if I do.  So forgive me if I need a little more fucking time to figure out what choice I’ll be able to live with.”

 

She was breathing hard, as though she’d just crossed blades with Zelena instead of words.  Her hands were shaking violently but they were in her lap, hidden from most everyone’s view under the table.  All eyes were on her, mostly in surprise at her outburst but she could see concern among them too. Keeping her focus on Zelena she was pleased to see that the woman was finally looking at her with a small measure of respect.

 

“Fine, whatever the princess wants I suppose,” Zelena said begrudgingly.  Then after a pause she said, “There is, however, another matter we need to discuss.”

 

“What else do we need to talk about?  I’m pretty sure I have nothing left to say to you,” Emma said, her voice somewhat hoarse.

 

“Then just listen,” Zelena said with a tinge of frustration. “There’s something I need you to get for me, something that we’ll need if you make the stupid decision to break the curse-”

 

“Alright, you need to go now,” Emma said shortly, the barely tamped down anger rising again.

 

“You’ll want to hear what I have to say,” Zelena protested.

 

“I said go,” Emma growled, pointing a still trembling finger at the door.

 

“Fine,” Zelena huffed.  She stood and held her head high, as though it was her decision to leave, “You should know that I wasn’t kidding about your motley crew participating in Founder’s Day.  Festivities start at ten and I expect you to put on a good show. If you refuse I’ll give Walsh plenty of reasons to scour this boat from warped mast to mealy biscuit.”

 

Zelena pushed past Roland and Turner, leaving Emma gaping at her back as she left.  She turned to Regina.

 

“What is she talking about?”

 

“It’s this ridiculous festival that everyone remembers happening every year because of the curse but no one’s actually been to,” Regina said, still gaping at the empty doorway. “It’s supposed to celebrate the founding of this stupid town with booths selling cheap homemade knick-knacks and historically inaccurate reenactments throughout the town.  Someone always gets arrested for getting too drunk off the spiked cider and it ends when Zelena’s trumped up speech about harmony and prosperity in the town gets interrupted by one thing or another. Last year it we had a two for one when Jones drunkenly accused her once again of killing his brother. It took both Walsh and Archer to successfully drag him off the stage.”

 

“But that didn’t actually happen, right?” Emma questioned as Regina’s eyes snapped to hers in surprise. “You said this festival is just a false memory but you’re talking about it like it actually happened.”

 

“It… no… I remember-” Regina’s eyes had clouded over and her fingers were nervously tapping on the table.  After a few seconds she blinked rapidly as her eyes cleared, “No, you’re right, it’s never happened. The cursed memories are stronger if they’re ones I haven’t been constantly trying to keep straight.  You’ll probably have to give tours of the ship or at the very least come up with some lie about how a ship like this brought over the original settlers.”

 

“You mean make a mockery of us?” Turner said with distaste. “There’s a reason this ship is named the Jewel of the Realm.  It’s not some mere pleasure vessel for entertaining the masses.”

 

“Newsflash, Blast from the Past, but ships like this are nothing but novelties in this realm,” Regina said testily. “Walsh already thinks there’s something going on here and we don’t need Gold getting any kind of idea what this ship and all of you really are.  If Zelena said you’re going to be part of Founder’s Day she’s already told at least thirty people and each one of them have told thirty more. By Saturday you’ll have a crowd of people clamoring to get on board. There’s no choice here, it’s going to happen.”

 

“Is she doing this to torture us even more?” Roland asked in disbelief.

 

“Probably,” Regina said with a shrug. “She knows she has the upper hand for now.  If Emma doesn’t break the curse we’ll have to play by her rules.”

 

“And if she does then we’re sentencing everyone to the whims of an untempered Dark One who we have no idea what he will do,” Grace sighed.

 

“What if we kill him first and then break the curse?” Marty piped up, clearly eager to be included.

 

“How might I ask?” Roland asked with a raised brow. “According to that witch the man is dead already.  Our only hope would be the Dark One’s dagger but seeing as no one had seen hide nor hair of it while he was imprisoned I doubt we’d find it here.”

 

“Even if we did whoever killed him would become the Dark One,” Emma said with a bitter smile.  She stood, her legs barely able to hold her up, “Although, it’s not the worst option on the table.  I’d even volunteer to do it myself.”

 

The collective gasps were seemingly still echoing in the galley as she sped out, almost tripping over Turner’s feet in her haste to get away. Grace called after her but she kept moving forward.  Finally she made it to her cabin, slamming the door behind her as her breath came in quick pants. The emotions she had pushed down had suddenly burst, pouring over her like a bottle of ale that had been shaken too vigorously.

 

Sliding to the floor she tried to reign everything back in but it was hopeless.  Her hands were shaking uncontrollably as she gasped for air. Black spots erupted in her vision as the horrible choice Zelena had forced on her swirled in her head.  Dropping her forehead to her knees she scrabbled for Killian’s ring, grasping it like a lifeline as she waited for the overwhelming feelings to subside.

 

Eventually her breathing evened out and she could hear the normal sounds of the ship over the pounding of blood in her ears.  When she felt confident enough to stand she made her way to the table where only two things were resting upon it: her journal with her letters to Killian and the second of the two magic beans she’d found in Blackbeard’s hat.  Sitting at the table she resumed staring at the two items, as she had been doing for nearly three days straight as she tried to decide what to do.

 

The sound of Roland’s voice broke through her musings.

 

“Planning on running away from it all then, are you?”

 

“The door was closed for a reason,” she answered without looking up, gently spinning the bean with her finger.

 

“I came to check up on you since you’ve been holed up in here for two hours.”

 

Emma glanced around and was surprised to see that her quarters were mostly in shadow from the afternoon sun.  Roland was watching her warily and she sighed, turning her gaze back to the bean.

 

“Come to argue with me some more?  Or are you here to try and convince me one way or the other about what I should do?  Either way I’m not in the mood.”

 

“How about a drink instead?”

 

Looking up with a raised brow to see him produce a bottle of the darkest rum she’d ever seen and two pewter mugs from behind his back.  With a shrug she nodded at the chair across the table from her as she sat back in hers. Uncorking the bottle with his teeth he poured out a generous measure of rum for the both of them, gently placing one of the mugs in front of her and then the bottle in the middle of the table before sitting down.

 

She picked up the mug and held it up for a toast, “To the lucky bastards living under the curse.  At least they can sleep peacefully at night.”

 

“I don’t want to drink to that,” Roland said with a frown.

 

“Then don’t,” she said indifferently, downing her rum in one swallow.  Shuddering slightly she poured herself another round, scowling at Roland as she did, “Where the hell did you get this from?”

 

“I, er, knicked it from Daniel’s cabin-” the tips of his ears began to turn pink and he quickly took a sip of his rum, coughing harshly after he swallowed.

 

“Daniel?” Emma repeated, confused until Roland flushed deeper and his eyes skittered away from hers. “Oh, is that Turner’s first name?  Add that to the list of things I didn’t know. Although it does go to show that you’ve been so pissed at me that you decided to hide whatever it is you two are now.”

 

“Emma, it’s not like that,” Roland said, even as he still avoided looking at her.

 

“No?” She asked, scoffing in disbelief.  She took another drink of her rum and uncurled a finger from her mug to point at him, “So if I were to ask Turner why neither of you said anything he won’t tell me that you asked him to?”

 

“He will, but not for the reason you think,” he said, finally looking at her. “I didn’t want to flaunt it in your face that we’re together when you can’t be with Killian the same way.  It’s not fair that we found happiness when you’ve been given nothing but misery.”

 

“But you’re mad at me!” Emma blurted out, her hand dropping to the table causing some of the rum to splash over the sides of her mug.

 

“Not anymore.  It’s hard to stay mad at someone when they’ve got the weight of the world on their shoulders,” Roland said with a shrug and a pained smile.  The blush returned to his cheeks, “Daniel might have also pointed out that I wasn’t being fair or helpful by constantly badgering you about the curse when I’m not doing anything to actually help you break it.”

 

“If I decide to break it, you mean,” she pointed out.

 

With a less than steady hand she brought her cup back to her lips, downing the lot.  Roland followed suit, coughing again as he reached for the bottle. He poured more into both of their mugs, lightly tapping the rims together when he picked his up.

 

“So is this your plan then?” He asked, looking pointedly at the bean in front of them.

 

“To run?” She nudged the bean with the bottom of her mug, “Not in the way you’re thinking and I don’t even know if I can bring myself to do it.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You’ll think I’m cruel.”

 

“I could tell you at least fifty different thoughts I’ve had that would have you thinking the same of me,” Roland said with a raised brow, sipping at his rum and only grimacing as he swallowed. “I promise not to judge.”

 

“I keep going back to two options, other than the ones Zelena forced on me.  One: we somehow convince our family and friends to come on the ship-” Emma gripped her mug tightly.  She wanted to slam the rum back as quickly as she had with the other two but knew she was well on her way to tipsy and she needed to have some of her wits about her as she finally told someone the thoughts that had plagued her. “We could use the bean to take us back home and we break the curse on them there.”

 

“Leaving the Dark one here, still cursed and somewhat safe,” Roland said with a nod, showing no sign of shock at her suggestion. “I take it Zelena would be left behind as well but so would-”

 

“So would scores of other innocent people,” Emma sighed, finally taking a sip. “Even if we could convince even half the people we want to save to board the Jewel can’t hold them all.  Who are we to decide who gets to stay and who gets to go? And if we do how can we be sure the curse will break for those we take? Or if it does what if it somehow still breaks over here and the Dark One is freed anyway?”

 

“All valid questions,” Roland hummed, tapping his mug with a finger. “And the second option?”

 

“We use the bean to send Gold to a different realm.  But then that brings up a whole different set of problems.  What if he ends up somewhere that has magic? What if going through the portal somehow wakes him up?  And again, if we break the curse here maybe it breaks it on him wherever we send him and he happens to be somewhere with magic.  It’s even riskier than just breaking the curse here where we already know there’s no magic. At least that will stall him for a little bit-” Emma took a deep breath before continuing softly, “I’ve been going round in circles trying to figure out what to do.”

 

“I can see that,” Roland chuckled. “Did Marty’s suggestion ever occur to you?”

 

“To kill Gold and hope for the best?  For about a minute in the dead of night until I realized that it was the worst option of all and I stayed awake until dawn because of it.”

 

“Have you slept at all?”

 

“When I’m not worrying about what to do,” she sighed.

 

“So… that would be not a wink,” he huffed.

 

“You and Turner?  Exactly how long have you been spending time in his cabin?” Emma asked in a clear attempt at changing the subject.

 

Roland rolled his eyes but once again his blush belied him.

 

He took a small sip of his rum before mumbling into his mug, “Since the night after I ran into my father and Regina came on board.”

 

“Decided you needed to free up a bunk in the hold or was it you just couldn’t stand her that much?” Emma snorted.  She raised her mug, “How’s this for a toast? To being with the one you want in order to get away from one of the bitches that ruined your life.”

 

“See, this is why I didn’t want to say anything-” he gave a put upon sigh even as his lips were twitching and he raised his own mug. “Too bad Killian isn’t here with us.  He’d gladly toast to that.”

 

They both drank their rum but Emma had to fight to keep it down.  In the few moments where she wasn’t overwhelmed by the momentous decision she had to make she had nearly driven herself mad trying to figure out what she could possibly say to Killian.  It was because of her desire to tell him everything and whisk them away to safety that she had first thought of the bean. Then her sense of obligation to her kingdom’s people and the guilt of even considering leaving them behind in favor of those closest to her had begun to trickle in and her thoughts had spiralled on and on from there.

 

There was one other option that she hated herself for even thinking and couldn’t bring herself to tell Roland even if he had thought it had been her plan for the bean.  The worst part was that it was the most sensible and feasible of anything she had come up with but it was by far the most terrible of them all. They could simply weigh anchor and leave with only themselves on board, return to Misthaven with broken hearts but safer for it.  She once more shoved the thought of it away, too painful to consider for more than a moment, and drained her mug for the third time.

 

“I get it, you know,” Roland said quietly.  She gave him a puzzled look as he dropped his gaze to the rum he was swirling in his mug, “Why you’re having all these doubts and can’t bring yourself truly decide what to do.  I didn’t at first, which is part of the reason I was so mad at you, but now I do.”

 

“So why?  Why can’t I just choose and be done with it?” She whispered, not entirely sure of the reason herself.

 

“Killian,” he said with a matter of fact shrug. “He’s falling in love with you again-”

 

“You don’t know that,” she interrupted quickly, realizing she didn’t want to know why after all.

 

“True, but Daniel does.”

 

“What?  How?”

 

Roland gave her an unimpressed look, “You sent Killian to find him right after taking off with that loathsome Walsh guy, did you expect them not to talk?”

 

“Well, no, but they’re strangers without his memories and they weren’t together that long,” she argued.

 

“You forget Daniel’s known Killian a lot longer than either one of us has.  I guess even without his memories he’s behaving exactly the same as when he fell for someone back when he was younger,” he said with a sad smile.

 

“He told you about that?  He wouldn’t say anything about her to me.”

 

Emma dropped her gaze, trying not to feel betrayed that Turner had told Roland about Jaqueline when he had all but refused to tell her.  She knew it was because they were something more, that they were together, but it still stung all the same.

 

“He didn’t tell me anything either, not really-” Roland tapped his mug on the table to catch her attention.  She looked up and he gave her a knowing look, “No need to be jealous, he just told me that he’s seen the way Killian is when he’s falling in love but it was different this time.”

 

“Why, because he’s already married and my being here has him feeling confused and guilty?” She drawled sarcastically, eyeing the bottle of rum.

 

“No-” Roland huffed, grabbing the bottle and pouring her a pitiful amount, “because you love him too and you’ll do whatever it takes to make him happy even if it makes you miserable.  Which is why you can’t decide what to do about the mess we’re in. He’s unhappy and apparently vilified under the curse but he’s safe and if it breaks then he gets you and his rightful life back but then Dark One could just destroy it all with the snap of his fingers.

 

“And don’t tell me it’s the same argument you’ve been having with yourself concerning your father or Red or anyone else stuck in this town because it’s not.  I may not have exactly what you do with Killian and it’s only been a few weeks but I know if it was Daniel I’d be right where you are now. Except I’d have probably broken out the rum a lot sooner.”

 

“Who says I haven’t,” she murmured.  She looked up at him, doing nothing to keep her emotions from showing and was unsurprised that tears began to form, “What should I do?”

 

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his own eyes glassy. “I’m sorry Emma, but I don’t think this is something we can help you with.”

 

“Because I’m the Savior?” She asked with a warbling voice.

 

“Yeah,” Roland answered, looking as though he wished he was telling her the opposite.

 

Emma cleared her throat and gave him a shaky smile, “I hate that prophecy more and more by the way.”

 

“I'm sorry I was ever enthusiastic about it,” Roland said with a grimace.

 

“It's not like you knew what was going to happen,” she pointed out. “Can we just drink and talk about something else?  Anything else, please?”

 

“Sure,” he said easily, pouring the rum until it was almost to the rim of her mug. “What about that Founder’s thing?”

 

“Ugh, not that either.  How about being raised by the Merry Men?  It has to be almost as interesting as faking my way into being a feared pirate captain.”

 

Roland laughed and launched into a story about being left in the care of Will Scarlet and Little John and escaping them both.  Emma tried to keep her attention on the tale but her thoughts began to run away from her from everything her and Roland had discussed.  She only hoped that the rum swirling through her veins would slow them down enough to finally get some rest, if not peace along with it.

 

It took nearly until the morning of the festival, two days later, for Emma’s hangover from her talk with Roland to dissipate completely.  It wasn’t helped by the hoards of curious onlookers that circled the docks, shouting questions at her while she had a pounding headache, regarding their participation in the festival.  With the crew’s reservations and her urge to not bow to Zelena’s whims Emma had nearly ordered them to return to the cove almost three times. The only thing that held her tongue was Regina’s suggestion that they require people to pay to board the Jewel during the festival, something that she assured her would irritate Zelena to no end.

 

Despite having only just gotten over her night of excess with Roland she nonetheless found herself eyeing the cabinet where she kept her liquor as she dressed for the day.  With a sigh she focused back on fastening her vest correctly and trying to remember the story they would be telling the people who would be crawling across the Jewel’s deck like rats before she knew it.  Regina had tried to convince her to say the ship was an integral part in the founding of the town but Emma had scoffed at that and stated that she was a pirate captain and that was exactly what the people would get.  She hadn’t even bothered to hide her smile at Regina’s frustration and Turner’s distaste at her declaration.

 

The only somewhat good that was resulting from the festival was that between it and her recovery she hadn’t dwelled as much as she had previously on the decision she still had to make.  In the few moments her thoughts would stray Roland would suddenly be at her side commiserating in their shared misery or Turner would be consulting her about the level of the stores in the hold and the state of the ship.  She had appreciated their concern but no matter how hard they tried to distract her during the day the nights were consumed by nightmares of Killian blaming her for the decision she had yet to make.

 

“Emma, are you ready?  There are already dozens of people waiting to board and they’ve been pacing the dock since daybreak it seems.”

 

Emma shook her head at the annoyance she could clearly hear in Roland's voice but couldn't blame him.  There in fact had been people queuing up since nearly dawn that morning, when she had tried to escape from her nightmares above deck.  She had watched them from the shadows near the helm figuring they were as good a distraction as any. Then she had thought she had seen that Killian was among them but when she had rushed to the rail to invite him on board early it had been a stranger looking back up at her.

 

As she crossed to the door she strapped on her sword, almost hoping that Zelena would see it and remember the promise she had made back at the jailhouse.  When Roland caught sight of it at her hip he merely rolled his eyes and stepped out of her way. She elected not to comment on the hilt of a dagger she had seen poking out of the top of his boot.

 

“I still can't believe there are people actually willing to pay us just to step on board and not actually go anywhere,” Roland scoffed from behind her. “This realm is so strange.”

 

“Is Turner still determined to stand guard over the hold?” She asked as she reached the ladder leading up to the deck.

 

Roland snorted, “He's still upset that we knicked his good rum and he trusts those strangers much less than he does us.”

 

“Excuse me, who stole his rum?” She asked, turning to glare at him.

 

“You as good as stole it-” Roland shot back with a grin, “I would have never believed someone as tiny as you could drink that much!”

 

He deftly dodged her half-hearted swing at his arm, laughing at her scowl.  When she turned to climb up to the deck she let her smile unfurl. She hadn't realized how much she had missed him while he had been angry at her until he no longer was.

 

When she stepped on deck she wasn't surprised to see the others looking at her with a range of emotions. Regina was by the starboard rail, the scowl twisting her features deepening as the voices of the crowd swelled from the dock at the port side. Grace was at the helm looking apprehensively between her and Marty, who was bouncing excitedly on his toes by the foremast.  Roland stepped up beside her and gave an interested hum.

 

“Is it too late to say I don't think we should do this anymore?” Emma sighed.

 

Roland snorted, “I believe that ship has sailed, Captain.”

 

“Not funny,” she said with a roll of her eyes.  She looked at Regina, “I guess it's time.”

 

“I still don't know why I was roped into helping you with this,” Regina huffed, stalking across the deck towards the gangplank.

 

“Because you're the only one who knows how to handle the coin of this realm,” Emma said with only a hint of the annoyance she was feeling. “And it's not like you have anywhere else to be.”

 

“Besides-” Roland chimed in, “you’re the one who insisted we go through with this charade, it's only fitting you should suffer along with us.  Even if you did refuse to dress the part.”

 

“I won't debase myself by putting on those rags you found in the hold,” Regina sniffed haughtily.

 

“They're better than the ones we found you in,” Emma said under her breath causing Roland to snort in amusement beside her.  With a smirk she said louder, “Just go so we can get this over with, Regina.”

 

With one final sneer Regina walked down the gangplank and out of sight.  As they heard her address the crowd Emma moved toward the stern of the ship.  She returned Grace’s uneasy smile as she took her place at the helm, where she'd have full view of the deck and everyone upon it.  Grace stepped back behind her as Roland situated himself directly below her. When the first curious head appeared over the rail Emma took a steadying breath and drew her lips into a welcoming smile.

 

After a few hours Emma felt as though she had a handle on how to deal with the townspeople, at least the ones she didn’t know.  It was only the early afternoon and there had already been a steady stream of familiar faces that had stepped on board. Roland had even gone so far as to slip below deck when Robin had walked up the gangplank.  Emma hadn’t been much better when David and Red had shown up within ten minutes of each other, both circling the deck as she had stayed rooted at the bow, barely able to converse with the man who had been asking her questions at the time.

 

By far the worst moment had been when a group of children had come on board.  Their adult minder had told Emma that they were from the local orphanage with some of the older ones along to keep the younger ones in line.  Grace had been standing near her and had looked over at the group with a gentle smile that dropped from her face in an instant. She had nearly fainted on the spot and it had taken both Emma and Roland to get her below to the galley, both yelling for Turner to bring them water.  After a few harrowing minutes Grace had raspilly whispered that her own missing children had been with the group and though she hadn’t seen them for years she was certain that it had been Jack and Jill among them.

 

After sending Roland back up to the top deck Emma had stayed with Grace for another hour or so.  Finally Grace had regained some of her normal color and insisted that she would be fine. Emma had been reluctant to leave her but her urge to check that everything was still running smoothly had been the final push in getting her to leave Grace’s side.  By the time she had emerged on deck the group of children were gone and there had been a whole new set of curious onlookers roaming about the deck.

 

“I think the whole damned town is going to step foot on the Jewel before the day is over,” Roland grumbled.

 

Emma grimaced, glad they were somewhat alone by the helm, “We’re something new in a town where apparently time hasn’t moved for over a year.  I’d be suspicious if they didn’t.”

 

She looked over the deck and tried not to catch the eye of Walsh as he moved methodically from stem to steer.  He had been on board for nearly a quarter of an hour, inspecting innocuous things like the fastenings for the lines or knocking on the deck with the heel of his shoe.  Unsure what exactly he was looking for Emma hadn’t let her gaze stray away from him for too long.

 

“And are you?” Roland’s voice broke through her concentration on Walsh.

 

“Am I what?” She asked, turning confused to see him looking at her worriedly.

 

“Suspicious that Killian hasn’t shown up yet,” he quickly looked towards the gangplank where no one was currently stepping on board. “I thought he would have been one of the first ones here.”

 

“Me too,” she sighed quietly.

 

It had been a niggling thought throughout the day, constant and irritating in the back of her mind.  Killian had always shown up when she least expected with a smirk on his lips and mischief in his eyes.  She had been waiting anxiously all day for him to sneak up behind her and whisper in her ear about her outfit or the ridiculous farce they were performing but she had been so far left disappointed.  Roland bringing it to the forefront of her attention had only succeeded in bringing about her worries as to why Killian had yet to appear.

 

“Perhaps he’s waiting for the crowds to lessen,” Roland suggested halfheartedly. “Or until the sheriff over there has looked his fill.”

 

“If it was the crowds Killian would have found a way on board before everyone else and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Walsh or his presence,” Emma huffed, narrowing her eyes as Walsh lightly kicked at the main mast. “Even Pinocchio has stopped by twice and I broke my promise that I’d return to his library.”

 

“The curse may have made them forget you but everyone still seems to hold on to their devotion to you whether they realize it or not.  I didn’t miss the way your father or Red kept looking at you like they already knew you.”

 

“Robin was almost doing the same-” Emma pointed out gently, “You disappeared too quickly for him to get a good look at you though.”

 

“Yeah, well I’m not as strong as you,” Roland said with a shrug. “I doubt-”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

They both turned to find a woman around their age standing behind them.  She had wide, brown eyes and hair to match, though only the ends of it could be seen poking out of her knit cap.  Her dress was much the same as the rest of the townsfolk but there was something slightly scandalous about it, her thick coat open to reveal a bright pink shirt that exposed her chest and stomach in equal measure and trousers so tight Emma wondered if she had been sewn into them.  She looked between the two of them with slightly suspicious eyes before focusing on Emma alone.

 

“Are you Eva?”

 

“Yep,” Emma said with the false cheer she had been talking to the townspeople with all day. “Captain of the beautiful ship you find yourself on.”

 

“So you’re the one helping to feed my husbands delusions,” she said in an accented voice that was as cold as ice and eyes that were as hard as steel.

 

“Excuse me?” Emma asked in shock, sharing a puzzled glance with Roland.

 

“The high and mighty private detective here to solve the murder that our sheriff’s department has been working on for ages-” the woman sneered, planting her hands on her hips, “You think you can just waltz into town and wiggle your nose and just like that you’ve solved it?  I don’t think so.”

 

“I don’t know what you’ve been told but I only want to find out the truth, whatever it may be,” Emma said placatingly as she wondered how far talk of her false reason for being in the town had spread.

 

“Doesn’t explain why you’re set on seducing my husband while you’re at it.  You got your claws in him but I won’t allow it, you whore.”

 

Emma stepped back in surprise at the vitriol in the woman’s voice just as someone rushed up beside her.  She was further surprised to see it was Killian instead of Roland as she had thought. He was shaking with anger, his breaths were shallow and his hand was clenching and unclenching in what seemed to be an unconscious gesture.

 

“That is enough, Deb,” Killian growled.

 

Emma took another step back, her back pressing against the helm as she realized who the woman was.  She somehow felt she should have known it was Deborah, the woman cursed to believe she was married to Killian.  Watching Deborah’s face slide from a jealous rage to simpering adoration was almost enough to make her lose what little food she’d eaten that day.

 

“Oh, hey baby!  I didn’t see you,” Deborah crooned, batting her eyelashes. “I thought you’d be down at the Hole like every year.”

 

“I had more pressing matters,” Killian said shortly with half a glance back at Emma.

 

“Talking to her?” Deborah’s nose wrinkled as she looked her over from head to toe.

 

“That’s it,” Emma said sharply, coming out of the daze she’d stumbled into with Deborah’s and Killian’s presence.  She stepped around Killian and into Deborah’s space, “You need to leave.”

 

“What?  I paid good money and I have every right to be here!” Deborah shrieked indignantly, her face turning red in anger.

 

“And we appreciate your patronage,” Roland’s voice rumbled deeply from behind Emma. “You can either go voluntarily or I can escort you.  Either way you’re leaving now.”

 

“You aren’t going to let them treat me like this are you, baby?” Deborah whined, once again changing her demeanor in a split second as she turned to Killian with tears swimming in her eyes.

 

“I’m going to let them treat you however you deserve,” Killian said coldly.  He turned his back on her and looked at Emma with no less anger in his gaze, “Can we talk in private?”

 

“Sure,” she answered, ignoring Deborah’s spluttering and murderous glares.  She looked at Roland, “Make sure she’s off the ship and on her way anywhere else.  Let Regina know not to let her back on under any circumstances.”

 

“You can’t do that!”

 

“She can and she did, Ma’am,” Roland said with a wide grin. “If you’ll follow me then.”

 

Deborah continued to yell about the way they were treating her but Emma left Roland to deal with it.  With a tilt of her head she began to lead the way to the hatch that led straight to her cabin. She paid little attention to the gazes of the townsfolk that were alternating between watching her movements and the scene that Deborah was making.  It was, however, hard to brush off Killian’s presence at her back and she could barely get a calming breath in as she descended into her cabin, Killian right on her heels.

 

Her quarters weren’t fit to receive visitors and she resisted the urge to rush about setting things to rights.  Her bunk was a mess of blankets with a multitude of clothing piled on top, all items she had deemed unfit to wear for the crowds along with the boots she had kicked across the room in fits of pique.  The table was littered with loose papers, books, her half eaten breakfast, broken quills and ink pots, and in the center of it all was the journal of letters to Killian, open to the last letter she had written late the night before.  With blood pounding in her ears and a scorching heat in her cheeks she quickly crossed to the table and slammed it shut not giving a damn if it caused Killian to become curious as to what it was.

 

Turning back to him Emma realized she shouldn’t have worried.  Killian was standing at the base of the ladder, head down, a muscle in his jaw ticking as though he were chewing on something tough.  She wondered if he was trying to calm himself after Deborah’s words and the commotion she had caused. Her answer came when he looked up and his ire hadn’t abated.  Instead it seemed to be burning hotter.

 

“Just what was all that, lass?” Killian asked in a low growl.

 

“Your wife apparently,” she snapped back, immediately rising to the defensive. “I would think you’d at least recognize the woman you yourself said made you miserable.”

 

“Sod Deb, that’s not what I’m talking about,” he snarled, taking two steps towards her before coming to an abrupt halt.  He waved his hand jerkily towards her then up at the ceiling, “That ridiculous show you and those others are putting on today, what is all that?”

 

“Something appropriate for your town’s ridiculous festival.  I would think that much would be obvious,” she drawled as she propped her hip on the table and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

Killian’s nostrils flared as an angry flush began creeping up his neck, “Don’t get bloody cute with me, lass.  This has that bitch’s scent all over it and I want to know what she said to you to that has you jumping through hoops like a trained dog.”

 

“What the hell is your problem?” She asked angrily.  She also felt a sting of hurt that he was attacking her and tried to hide it with a frustrated frown, “This is my ship and what I do on it is none of your business.”

 

“Your ship?” Killian asked mockingly. “Is it now, Captain Swan?”

 

Emma’s heart stuttered in her chest.  She was still leaning against the desk and glad for it otherwise she would have collapsed to the floor hearing her moniker from out of his mouth.

 

“Wha- what did you say?”

 

“I read your bloody book,” he spat.

 

He fumbled with a satchel at his side that she hadn’t noticed, pulling out the story book she had given to him for safe keeping at Sunset Storybrooke.  Emma had nearly forgotten all about it in the aftermath of Zelena’s revelations. She had thought that Killian had given it to Turner who in turn had held onto it while she had kept herself apart from the others.  In truth she almost wanted nothing to do with the book that was filled with the memories of happier times. There had been no intention whatsoever of letting Killian read a single word from its pages.

 

“Yes it’s quite the fantastical tale, what with all those Disney characters coming together in a magical land.  Although there were quite a few names I didn’t recognize from any cartoon I’ve ever seen,” he gave a mocking smile as he strode to the table and dropped the book unceremoniously on it, causing Emma to jump to standing in her startlement.  There was a vein throbbing in his temple and his voice was deadly calm, “Can’t quite comprehend your fascination with a book of fairy tales, lass. Especially when you tell me it’s real and that I need to keep it safe before getting whisked off by that wanker Baum.  Then come to find out you have a tet a tet with the devil herself and suddenly eager to obey her demands? What the hell do you take me for anyway?”

 

Emma took a deep breath, forcing herself not to fidget as she tried to come up with a plausible explanation.

 

“It’s complicated-” she started, wincing as his hand clenched into a white knuckled fist. “What I talked to the mayor about, this idiotic show for the town, even that book, it’s all a part of this stupid complicated thing and I just… I can’t tell you what it is right now.”

 

“You can’t tell me,” Killian scoffed in disbelief.  He leaned towards her and growled, “After I read it I was certain you were having a laugh, a cruel joke but still in the realm of possibility.  Then I thought it was some kind of allegory or metaphor or what have you. It could have been a front for the real tale at the heart of it because only a nutter would believe that fairy tales were real, but you were so damn adamant that the bloody book be kept safe.  Then when I come here to ask you to explain I find you playing pirate and lying to my face.”

 

“I’m not lying,” she retorted hotly, wondering how she had completely lost control of everything.

 

“A lie by omission is still a lie, lass,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

 

“And you’ve been so forthcoming with me?  Do you know how many people have told me that you’re involved with whatever it is that got your brother killed?  Which, by the way, it wasn’t only that hag and her puppets that mentioned it. How idiotic are you to think that that’s the way to prove anything?”

 

“This isn't some bloody game!” Killian yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This is my life and I’m doing what I have to in order to finally find some peace for both me and my brother.  I'm not some do-gooder prince from over the rainbow or some kind of hero out to save the day. I don't need this fanciful bullshit distracting me from finding what I need to take Viridans down. So either get on board and actually help me or go back to wherever the fuck you came from.”

 

Emma felt as though he had slid a knife between her ribs.  She could hardly breathe. Killian had never spoken to her in that way.  Ever.

 

“Get off my ship,” she said through numb lips.

 

“I- what?”

 

“I said get off my ship,” she repeated slowly, hand resting involuntarily on the hilt of her sword. “You came here with accusations flying out your mouth and an itch for a fight in your blood but I’m not going to sit back and take the punches as they come.  You don’t need my bullshit distracting you? Fine. There’s the door.”

 

“Oh, no.  You can’t just throw me off the ship like that!  I deserve some kind of explanation!” He hollered, stepping towards her to tower over her.

 

“You deserve nothing!” She yelled back, refusing to back down and having to crane her neck to stare him down. “I thought I could trust you.  I did trust you and you just threw it back in my face. Funny, having met Deborah I can now see how you two are a perfect match.”

 

“That’s a low blow, lass,” Killian growled.

 

“And here I thought you didn’t understand the concept,” she snarled. “Now get the fuck off my ship.”

 

“I’ll do no such thing.  Not until you set some things straight.”

 

“I believe the captain has given an order,” Roland’s clipped voice sounded from across the cabin. “It would be wise to follow it.”

 

Killian spun on his heel and Emma could see both Roland and Turner standing inside the doorway.  They were both glaring at Killian, Roland somehow seemingly standing taller than he already was and Turner with his sword half out of its sheath.  She had never needed someone else to fight her battles but she was grateful all the same that they had appeared before she had said something she’d truly regret.

 

“Tell Tweedledum and Tweedledee that we’re not done with our little chat yet,” Killian said with disdain as he turned back to look at her. “I have more questions and I'm not leaving until I get some answers.”

 

“Too fucking bad,” she spat out.  She looked around him to the doorway, “Turner see to it that Jones here finds his way back to the dock and let everyone else know they’re welcome to leave as well.”

 

“Aye, Captain,” Turner said with a nod, sheathing his sword and stepping towards Killian.

 

“You touch me and I’ll make sure I’m not the only one handed man about town,” Killian snarled, glaring at Turner.  He then sneered at her, “This isn’t over, lass.”

 

Emma kept her face impassive, biting her tongue as Killian waited for one last retort.  With a scoff he left making sure to hit both Turner and Roland with his shoulder as he did.  Turner gave her an apologetic glance before following him out as Roland walked to her side pulling her into a hug.  Her shoulders slumped and she sighed deeply as her arms wrapped around his waist.

 

“Why is it every time I see him I end up wanting to punch him in the face?” Roland asked conversationally.

 

“You’re not alone,” she mumbled as she sighed again. “It’s been a passing thought for me nearly the entire time I’ve known him.  How’s Grace?”

 

“Could be better,” Roland said with his own sigh, giving her a quick squeeze before releasing her. “She came back on deck not long after you went below with Killian but she was far away from here.  It took hearing you two yelling for her to snap out of it.”

 

Emma winced, “You could hear us?”

 

“Why do you think Daniel and I both showed up when we did,” he said with a shrug.  He gave a quick glance to the table and the book sitting innocuously on its surface, “So, what are you going to do?”

 

Looking at the book she felt torn between wanting to burn it and curling up on her bunk with it to find comfort in its pages.  She thought back to the devastated look on Grace’s face when she’d revealed that her children had been on the ship, how Roland hadn’t been able to face his father, the indifference in Red and her own father’s eyes, and of course every single interaction with Killian from the moment they’d arrived.  Letting out an unsteady breath she knew what her choice was, what she had already decided deep in her heart.

 

“I’m going to break the curse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be mad at Killian for being mad at Emma, there is a reason 'scoundrel' is in the title. Also points to anyone who caught that Princess Bride reference I slipped in there.
> 
> Next: A little detective work and some illuminating interactions around town


	16. Still Come Back to You

Emma shifted another useless book out of her way, wondering why she ever thought that the answers she sought could be found in Pinocchio’s library.  He, of course, had been overjoyed to see her again even as she explained that she didn’t need all the information he had previously gathered for her.  With a happy shrug he had merely asked what she needed and set about helping her find it as best he could. When she had brought Grace along after a few days he had doubled his efforts, causing Emma to hide a smile at his attentions to the somewhat older woman.

 

It was a few weeks past the debacle of Founder’s Day.  Despite cutting the day short they had turned a decent profit and the respect of the citizens, giving them peace of mind as they all freely explored the town.  However Emma had run into Walsh and Deborah more often than not while Killian was nowhere to be seen. She had tried not to dwell overmuch on why that was.

 

She hadn’t told anyone aside from Roland that she planned on breaking the curse.  They had both decided it was for the best, at least until Emma had a better idea of what to expect when the Dark One would be let loose.  Her crew was none the wiser. Even Grace, who was helping her research, thought they were merely trying to find anything like the book that held Killian’s story.  It was a risk keeping the truth from them but she didn’t want to get their hopes up or have them once again watching her with heavy expectations in their eyes.

 

Luckily for her everyone’s attentions were occupied with keeping Marty out of trouble.  If she’d had any doubts that he was Will Scarlet’s son they had sailed out to sea the moment he had stepped off the ship.  If he wasn’t at Granny’s attempting to flirt with the serving girls or Red then he was either badgering Little John with questions about anything and everything or trailing Robin about the town and not being particularly subtle about it.  She’d had to assure each of them that he was just young, curious and meant no harm, putting Roland and Turner on the unfortunate duty of having to watch over him during the days. All three of them were unhappy with the arrangement and Marty somehow slipped away unnoticed more often than not keeping the rest of them on constant watch for his escapes.

 

The one thing everyone had agreed on without having to say a single word to each other was to stay as far away from Mr. Gold as possible.  Even Marty had enough sense to avoid the man and his shop. However Emma couldn’t help but feel that she’d have better luck talking to him than continuing to search fruitlessly through books that were no help.

 

“Should we head to Granny’s then?” Grace asked, pulling Emma out of her thoughts.

 

“Er... what?”

 

Grace laughed, “You’ve been staring off at nothing for a while now and if I’m not mistaken your stomach has made more noise in that time than you have.  It’s almost time we met the others anyhow so we might as well head over.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” she sighed, pushing back from the table they were sitting at. “Do you think Red’s listened to our suggestions for mutton or a hearty lamb stew?”

 

“I doubt it,” Grace said with another laugh. “She looked like she was ready to dump that meal she called lasagne in your lap the last time you asked.  I don’t think she’ll be baking her own bread any time soon either.”

 

“Well, it was worth asking,” Emma said with a shrug as she stood and slung her satchel over her shoulder. “Of all the things I thought I’d miss from home I never thought the food would be one of them.”

 

Their laughter drew the attention of Pinocchio who was watching them with a bemused smile from the doorway leading to the vestibule.  She could tell that he wished to be in on the joke and she felt a pang of guilt that sobered her amusement quickly. He didn’t seem to notice her change in demeanor, still smiling as he limped further into the room.

 

“Time for lunch then?”

 

“Can we persuade you to join us this time?” Grace asked as she gathered up her own belongings.

 

“I- uh, still have some… books that need to be sorted,” he said with a wince, the tips of his ears turning pink. “There’s also no one to watch over the library if I step out.”

 

“I’m sure they won’t miss you if you’re gone for a quick meal.  It’s not like people are flocking to be here,” Emma said pointedly looking around the empty rows of books.

 

“They might,” he hedged.  Then his gaze darted from them to deeper in the library and back again, “Maybe next time.”

 

It suddenly occurred to her why Pinocchio never joined them when they asked, especially when he was so keen to make an impression on Grace.  Killian had clearly been stopping by the library when he knew she wasn’t there or perhaps waited in the shadows until she left. She tried to keep a convincing smile on her face even as it felt as though her stomach was tying itself up into knots.

 

“Oh… I, er, see,” she said with a small waver in her voice.  She cleared her throat roughly and ignored Grace’s inquisitive look, “The invitations always open if you change your mind.”

 

Pinocchio looked pained, once more glancing away from them before looking back and saying quietly, “Just give him some time, Eva.  He’ll come around.”

 

“I doubt that,” she said with a half-hearted smile.

 

Forcing herself not to look behind her Emma made her way out of the library.  She could hear Grace saying her goodbyes to Pinocchio and then moving quickly to catch up with her.  As much as she didn’t want to explain things to Grace she knew it was better to do so quickly before they were in the company of the others.

 

“Killian has some sort of arrangement with Pinocchio,” she murmured, nodding at the various townspeople that waved at them as they walked towards Granny’s. “I’m pretty sure it has to do with whatever it is he’s been doing that people have been warning me about but they don’t seem to know that Pinocchio is in on it too.  He doesn’t like to be seen near the library, especially by Walsh, so he sneaks in through the back to get whatever it is that Pinocchio holds for him. I- I think he was there when we left.”

 

“I think he was too,” Grace said with a sigh. “I thought I had seen someone moving in the back aisles but brushed it off as a trick of the light.  Then with how Pinocchio was acting and what he said to you…”

 

Emma gave her a one shouldered shrug as she struggled to keep her composure.  Her anger at Killian had only lasted a few hours before heartache had begun to seep in.  His absence over the weeks had only deepened her despair and her crew had done their best to keep her spirits up, to convince her that their fight was inconsequential.  Discovering that he was clearly avoiding her had her feeling as though her chest was caving in.

 

“Please don’t say anything to the others,” she pleaded as they came upon the white fencing that lined the outdoor eating area at Granny’s. “Roland and Turner will just fight with each other on who deserves to defend my honor and Marty will run off to do just that.”

 

“At least we know where he’d be,” Grace grumbled, causing Emma to laugh.  She smiled, “I won’t say a word to them but I will say this: Pinocchio’s right, he’ll come around.”

 

Grace gently squeezed her arm before continuing on into the diner.  As much as Emma wanted to believe her she was finding it hard to do so.

 

She could see Roland, Turner, and Marty sitting at a table near one of the windows.  They looked up towards the door as Grace opened it and Emma smiled as she watched Marty start waving his arms exuberantly while Roland and Turner scowled deeply.  She huffed out an amused laugh and went to join them.

 

When she entered the diner she was dismayed to see both Deborah and Walsh inside.  They had both turned to look at her, the bells attached to the door still jinging as it shut.  Deborah was sitting alone at a small table for two and while she had at first looked eagerly at her entrance her mouth had become a thin line of disapproval.  Walsh was watching her unabashedly from his seat at the counter, almost turning completely around on his stool to do so. Emma rolled her eyes at both of them and joined her crew at their table.

 

“Em- er Eva will you please tell them that I’m old enough to be on my own?” Marty pleaded as soon as she sat down.

 

“You’ve given them the slip nearly every day even after I explicitly ordered you to stay with them.  I should lock you in the brig for insubordination,” Emma pointed out as she pilfered a potato stick from Roland’s plate. “Prove to me that you can actually follow orders without complaining and I’ll get them off your back.”

 

“Seems like unfair punishment for the lot of us,” Roland grumbled, pulling his plate closer to him with a frown. “And your food’s on the way, pirate.”

 

“If it’s another helping of that lasagne then I’m going back to the ship and eating the last of the hardtack,” she mumbled as she grabbed another potato stick from Turner’s plate instead.

 

“I ordered you something called a BLT.  Princess Charlotte assured me it’s better than the lasagne,” Turner promised.  He looked over her shoulder and narrowed his eyes, “I’ll be damned.”

 

“What?” She asked turning to look and seeing nothing out of the ordinary aside from Deborah still glaring daggers at their table.

 

“I never thought I’d see her again, especially after her and her mother were banished from the kingdom,” Turner said distractedly.  He shook his head and looked at her, “That’s Jaqueline, the first girl Killian-”

 

“Loved.  Of course she is,” Emma said with a disappointed sigh. “She’s called Deborah here and she’s the one Killian believes he’s married to under the curse.”

 

“She’s a right bitch,” Marty said somewhat loudly, glaring right back in Deborah’s direction.

 

“Marty!” Grace admonished in a harsh whisper.

 

“What? Da always said to tell people what you think so there’s no mistaken your intentions.”

 

“And what did your mother have to say about that?” Emma asked, not believing for a second that Belle would let any child of hers have the manners of an ogre.

 

“She, uh, made him sleep with the horses for almost a week,” Marty said reluctantly. “She also made him launder his own clothes and they still smelled awful after.”

 

“Is that why?” Roland said with a chuckle. “Most of us thought he’d ruined one of her books.  He ended up stealing new clothes from somewhere because none of us wanted to cross Belle by giving him some of ours.”

 

“He burned the smelly ones,” Marty said, smiling widely. “On account that Colette kept gagging when he’d come near her.”

 

“It was no surprise when she and her husband settled in a village,” Roland said with a laugh. “They both detested all the moving around we had to do, even when they were small and should have been up for adventures.  I think Belle enjoys her visits with them more and more as the years go on.”

 

“Mum likes it well enough,” Marty mumbled around a mouthful of food. “Says it’s easier to get up in the mornings when the fire isn’t out in the cold.”

 

“Colette is your sister?” Emma asked trying to keep up with them.

 

“Six years older and likes to act like she’s my mum too,” Marty said with a scowl.

 

“Older siblings tend to do that,” Turner chimed in, finally moving his plate out of Emma’s reach.

 

“You’re a younger sibling?” Emma asked in mild disbelief.

 

“Middle actually.  I have a three older siblings, one brother and two sisters, and a younger brother and a sister,” he said with a half smile. “It’s why I ended up at the Naval Academy.  My older brother, Derek, is quite a bit older than me and had a sterling reputation there already. So when they asked for recommendations for a companion for the Crown Prince Derek put forth my name and there were no further questions.  Of course he made sure to drill more rules and regulations into my head before I even met Liam than I’d learned in the six years we were at the Academy.”

 

“Well, that explains a lot,” Emma teased.

 

Turner’s retort was cut short by Charlotte approaching their table with her and Grace’s food.  She set down a plate with the onion rings and another type of filled bread meal she had learned was called a sandwich.  From what she could tell it was a simple one with greens, tomatoes and rashers. For the first time Emma felt like she wasn’t trying to puzzle out her food before eating it.

 

Before she could take a single bite she felt something akin to an itch between her shoulder blades.  She turned slowly to look behind her and was somehow unsurprised to see Killian lurking in the shadows of the hallway leading to the privy closets.  The moment he realized he’d caught her eye he invited her to join him with a jerk of his head. That small movement, the expectation that she’d follow along blindly, had her completely forgetting the hurt she’d been feeling over the past weeks with her ire replacing it.  Fuming she turned back around and began eating her meal instead just to spite him.

 

“You’re only going to piss him off more,” Roland said under his breath, attacking his own meal with vigor.

 

“I don’t care,” Emma said cooly, vaguely noting that her sandwich was truly delicious. “He’s been deliberately avoiding me and now he decides he wants to talk?  He can just wait by the privies all day for all that I’m interested.”

 

“So he has been avoiding you,” Roland said with a disappointed shake of his head. “Didn’t think the curse made a coward of him too.”

 

Emma snorted out a laugh as both Turner and Grace gave them looks of disapproval.  She knew it was cruel but she was nearing the end of her patience. Laughing over something she couldn’t control was far better than crying even more over it.  With purposeful movements she continued eating, well aware of the tingling that had resumed between her shoulders.

 

“He’s headed this way,” Turner murmured, looking back down at his plate quickly.

 

“Damn,” she sighed, knowing she’d all but lost her opportunity to eat her full meal.

 

“Baby!” Deborah’s voice rang out, high pitched and as cloying as ever. “Join me?”

 

“No, Deb,” Killian said curtly. The diner had quieted and Emma could hear his footsteps as he approached, “Lass, a word?”

 

“I’m trying to eat here,” she said shortly, not even bothering to look at him. “I also think I’ve had enough words from you to last me a while.”

 

“If you’d just let me explain-”

 

“I’m sorry-” Emma spun around to face him, indignation pulsing in her veins, “I thought my bullshit was distracting you and that I should go back to where I fucking came from.  My mistake, it must have been some other asshole insulting me on my ship.”

 

There was a collective intake of breath from nearly everyone in the diner.  She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself. When she opened them Killian was still standing in front of her looking as though he was trying his hardest not to start yelling at her again.

 

“You know what?  I’m not that hungry anymore-” she stood abruptly, forcing Killian to take a step back and Roland and Turner to jump up with her.  She waved them back into their seats, “Finish your meals. I’m going back to the ship where I can be left in peace.”

 

She pushed past Killian, biting back the insult she wanted to hurl at the smug look on Deborah’s face.  The noise of the diner started to swell and she could just make out Walsh telling Red what had transpired on her ship during the Founder’s Day Festival.  With a scoff she wrenched open the door and stalked out of the diner, barely keeping her temper in hand.

 

As soon as Emma made it to the walkway out front she paused, taking in a deep breath of the crisp winter air.  She knew she was still visible to anyone watching from inside the diner but her need to get ahold of herself was greater than her desire to not be a source of entertainment for the townspeople.  After a few more cleansing breaths she felt that she was in control of her emotions enough to not draw her dagger on the poor soul who ventured to talk to her next.

 

With a rueful shake of her head for her lost meal she began to walk.  The last place she wanted to go was back to the Jewel. She had spent too long confined below deck mulling over what to do about the curse and after her fight with Killian she no longer felt as though it was a haven for her to retreat to.

 

Her feet were leading her back to the library when it occurred to her that she was alone, truly alone, for the first time since she had decided to break the curse.  Before she could second guess herself she made the choice that had been tempting her for days. It was clear that Pinocchio’s books would be no help but who better to ask about such things than the Dark One himself.  She tried not to think about how Gold had predicted that she would eventually seek out his assistance or the favor she already owed him.

 

“Care to join a man for a drink, lass?”

 

Emma spun towards the voice and was dismayed to see Killian silhouetted at the mouth of an alley, leaning against one of the buildings with a flask in hand.

 

“I’m not in the mood for a drink-” she spat, her anger bubbling forth once more, “or a man.”

 

She stalked off, moving across the roadway without heeding the probability of a car crossing her path.  Luck was on her side and from the cacophony of sound behind her along with Killian’s shouts at her to wait she knew he had been forced to slow down any pursuit he wanted to make.  Unfortunately it was only moments before he was at her side, panting from exertion.

 

“Bloody hell, lass, will you just give me a minute to apologize?”

 

“Oh, is that why you’ve finally come out of hiding?  Too little, too late.”

 

Her movement forward was halted by his hook around her elbow, forcing her to come to a stop lest it rip through her coat.  Pulling her arm from his grasp she refused to look directly at him, instead looking over his shoulder down the roadway behind him.  It didn’t stop her from noticing the muscle ticking in his jaw or the tension in his shoulder as he took a breath.

 

“I deserve everything you throw at me, lass, but will you at least listen before you decide to hate me for the rest of your life?”

 

Emma frowned but gave him a slight nod all the same.  She could never hate him but he had no way of knowing that.  With a sigh he dragged his hand through his hair and she allowed herself to take a quick peek at him.  He was clearly frustrated but she could also see the resignation in his eyes. It was clear he believed she had no intention of forgiving him.

 

“First you have to understand that for far too long it’s been just me looking out for myself,” Killian said with a plea underlying his words, “After our mother died and our father abandoned us Tommy kept us from going into the system but he was never like my brother after those responsibilities were dumped on his shoulders.  We’d go weeks without talking and then fight like dogs when we did. Then we moved here and the rift between us only grew. Deb didn’t help.

 

“I met her our first night in town.  I had run away from Tommy because I was pissed that he had dragged us here from England with no warning and no good reason.  Of course I found out later it was the shot at a bigger share of the pot that got him to uproot us like that. At the time I thought it was merely because he couldn’t stand the way people back home pitied us, the two abandoned Jones boys barely able to keep a roof over their heads or clothes on their backs.  Deb came across me at the docks,I was fitting for a fight, and instead she handed me a flask full of rum she’d swiped from her dad and gave me another more pleasurable option for expending my energy.”

 

Emma shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to hear anything about Deborah let alone Killian’s fake memories of their coupling.  He didn’t seem to notice her unease as he paced in front of her, running his hand through his hair as his hook clicked open and shut repeatedly.

 

“We were inseparable after that but I couldn’t see it for what it was at the time.  I was starving for affection, for love, and she used it against me. I did everything she asked of me without question.  I made no other friends at the school at her request, got the job at Granny’s to be able to pay for everything she wanted, talked even less to Tommy than I had before.  Of course none of it was good enough and we’d have explosive rows that ended with us breaking up for a moment before coming back together more passionately than before. Of course you know how this part of the tale ends.”

 

He gave her a rueful smile but Emma couldn’t miss the lingering pain in his eyes.  She wondered how closely his cursed memories of his time with Deborah mirrored his true past with Jaqueline, promising to herself to wait to find out until Killian was the one who could tell her himself.

 

“After I moved out I had no one, a few acquaintances here and there, a few lads from work I’d go to the Hole with but no one to really talk to.  When Tommy was murdered the few people that I was friendly with dropped to nearly zero, especially when I started asking questions about the investigation even more so when I… when I joined up with the smugglers that Tommy had died for.  It’s a miracle August was still willing to talk to me at all, let alone assist me the way he has been. Then you came sailing into town, lass, all heartbreak in your eyes and fire on your tongue.

 

“At first you merely intrigued me.  It was clear you were here for a reason, even if you were dressed like you’d stepped off the set of a Pirates movie.  I thought I could goad you into some fun, either between the sheets or not was fine with me. Until I saw you about to attack Viridans, then I knew there was far more to you than I could fathom.

 

“You caught me off guard that day I gave you a ride to Granny’s.  It was like you had an window into my mind and you could see everything clearly, too clearly.  I was rattled but still curious-”

 

“Is that why you came back?” She asked, unable to help herself.

 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, scratching nervously behind his ear. “I wanted to know more about you but really I just wanted someone to talk to.  Someone who seemingly understood everything I thought I knew about myself and some things I didn’t. That you were willing to help me solve my brother’s murder was a bonus.

 

“When you met with Viridans I was brought right back to how I felt when I was with Deb and then reading that book didn’t help  The worst part was I couldn’t figure out when you’d lied, what your endgame was. I just knew I felt betrayed and didn’t stop to think, let alone try to do so calmly.  Hearing about you putting on that show for Founder’s Day, caving to what I knew were Viridan’s commands, something in me snapped and I took it out on you. It was unfair of me to attack you so.  I’m sorry.”

 

Emma rocked back on her heels, stunned by his speech.  She had thought he’d only offer a simple apology, one where he grinned at her sheepishly but offered no explanation as to why he had attacked her as he had.  It was what she had expected of his cursed personality and instead she had been given a glimpse of the real Killian. It left her feeling off kilter and without a single thing to say in response.

 

He was watching her with trepidation, as though he was waiting for her to dismiss everything he’d said and send him away for good.  She was all too aware that he had mentioned nothing of what was in the book or his lack of belief in it but she also knew that his belief would come about eventually, even if she had to help him along.  With a tight smile and a brisk nod of her head she accepted his apology and was rewarded with a blinding grin that nearly made her breath catch in her throat.

 

“Well, lass, since we agree that I’ve been a right ass about things I believe I should now fully make it up to you with a drink or two.  Shall we head back to Granny’s? I know interrupted your meal earlier and I’d be more than happy to buy you another one along with that drink.”

 

“Oh… um, maybe later?” She said hesitantly, glancing over her shoulder towards Gold’s shop. “There’s something I need to take care of first.”

 

“Right, of course.  I shouldn’t have assumed-” Killian ducked his head and scratched behind his ear, clearly under the belief she hadn’t fully forgiven him. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

 

“Or you could come with me?” She blurted out, wincing at how eager she sounded.  She quickly schooled her features into a warm smile when he looked up at her with careful hope, “I’d actually appreciate someone else being there.”

 

“And where is it you’re going?  Because if it’s to see Viridans I’d regretfully have to decline, for all of our sakes.”

 

“Actually, I need to talk to Gold.”

 

The hesitant smile dropped from Killian’s face, only to be replaced by a deep scowl.  Twin spots of color bloomed high on his cheeks as his hand curled into a tight fist. She took a hesitant step back and when he noticed he visibly forced himself to relax.

 

“Why do you want to talk to that crocodile?” He asked with a slight shake of anger in his voice.

 

“I-” she panicked slightly, knowing she couldn’t mention anything about the curse or the Dark One but also knowing he wouldn’t accept a half answer either.  She cast about for something to assuage him and surprised herself by saying, “I was going to ask him if he knew anything about your brother’s death.”

 

“You don’t have to ask him anything,” he spat out, glaring daggers over her shoulder towards Gold’s shop. “He knows just as much as Viridans and just as willing to admit it.”

 

“But I thought she’s the one that had him killed,” Emma said confusedly, trying to remember what Killian believed to be true.

 

“She is but he’s the one that gave her the names of the men willing to take a life for money.  Don’t waste your breath talking to that soulless demon.”

 

Emma suppressed a shudder at how eerily on the mark Killian was about Gold’s true nature.  However she wasn’t willing to give up on finding out what she could from Gold, even if Killian disapproved of it as much as everyone else would when they inevitably found out.

 

“He could know something more, something he is willing to tell us.  We won’t know unless we ask,” she said stubbornly.

 

“I’m telling you it’s a waste of time,” he growled. “Don’t let yourself get tangled up with him for me.  I don’t need the truth that badly.”

 

“Well I do-” she turned on her heel and marched towards the shop, calling over her shoulder, “You can come along or not but I’m doing this either way.”

 

She heard him curse behind her.  He quickly caught up to her, once more hooking her elbow so she stopped just shy of the shop’s windows.

 

“I can see you’re determined to do this,” Killian said with a sigh.  He gently pulled her back a few steps, “Whatever you do don’t agree to do any favors for that man.”

 

“Too late,” she muttered, dropping her eyes from his.

 

“Bloody hell lass-” he scrubbed his hand over his face and gave her a stern look. “Don’t agree to any more favors, if you please.  He’ll do his best to talk circles around you, let him. It’s easier to sort through his waffling if you just listen. Watch his reactions closely, they’ll tell you far more than his words will.”

 

“You’re a lot more helpful than Viridans was,” Emma said with a tilt of her head.  Killian scowled but she pressed on, “She just told me not to say anything and then threw me to the wolf when I least expected it.”

 

“Not surprising, they have a mutual contempt for each other that’s ignored when they find that working together to take down someone weaker is more beneficial.  Not that you’re weak lass,” he amended quickly with a wince. “They both believe that everyone is beneath them and with Gold owning half the town and Viridans running the other half it’s not too far a stretch.  You’re far better than both of them and I think- I think that’s part of the reason I raged at you like I did. I didn’t fancy thinking you had cowed to Viridans when I know you could chew her up and spit her out without a second thought.”

 

“I almost did cow to her,” she confessed quietly, wringing her hands. “She made the right threats and I-”

 

“Did what you thought you had to to protect the ones you love,” Killian said, gently placing his hand over hers.  He waited quietly until she looked up at him again, “Happens to the best of us lass. It seems you’ve come back around though, yeah?”

 

She gave him a small smile, “Yeah.  I have.”

 

“Good,” he said with a nod, squeezing her hands before letting them go. “Now, I can’t go in there with you.  There’s too much bad blood between us for that old crocodile to give you any sort of straight answer if I’m there.  I’ll be waiting, though, right here. I mean… if you want me to, of course.”

 

“Just answer me one thing,” she said with a quick look over her shoulder at the shop. “Why do you call him a crocodile?”

 

“He has a crocodile’s smile, lass,” he said seriously, a faint frown line appearing between his eyes. “Don’t let it lull you into a false sense of getting along with him.  There’s no humor behind it for anyone but himself.”

 

“Right,” she nodded to herself, trying to remember everything he’d told her and what she already knew from her first encounter with Gold.  She couldn’t help looking at him for reassurance, “You’ll wait here?”

 

“Won’t move an inch, lass,” he promised, holding up his hand as though swearing an oath.

 

Emma tried to temper her smile but when his eyes brightened at the sight of it she let it fully unfurl.  As she turned to walk to the shop she held onto it, knowing that even if Gold saw it as a weakness she felt stronger than she had in weeks.

 

Unlike the bell that greeted the patrons of Granny’s Diner the one that rang in Gold’s shop sounded as though it was ringing out an omen.  The shop was as dimly shadowed as it had been on her previous visit and the number of objects crammed into every nook and cranny still intrigued her but she wasn’t at all prepared to see Gold holding a sword with white gloved hands behind the glass encasement at the opposite end of the shop.  She felt the remnants of her smile slip from her lips when she recognized the gold inlaid pommel of her own father’s sword.

 

“Miss White, I must say it’s a pleasure to see you again, especially without an escort this time,” Gold said with an oily politeness that set her teeth on edge.  He placed the sword into a wooden case and folded his hands in front of him, “How can I be of service?”

 

“I came to see what you can tell me about Tommy Jones’ death,” Emma said without hesitation. “I know you know more than you let on the last time I was here.”

 

“And why would you think that?” Gold asked with interest dancing in his eyes.

 

“Because of what you said when I practically accused the mayor of being a part of it.  You know something and I want to know what it is,” she said with narrowed eyes, careful to keep her tone even.

 

“Oh, Miss White, even if I did why would I share anything with you?” He asked with a sneer, snapping the case in front of him shut. “I already know you’re desperate for answers but not to the questions you’ve been asking around town.  You have nothing to offer me that I want or can’t get for myself. Unless, of course, you’d be willing to owe me another favor.”

 

“Not a chance,” she said stiffly, heeding Killian’s warning.

 

“Then I have nothing to say to you-”

 

“What if I helped you take down Viridans?” She asked almost desperately, hoping that her wild guess at his motivations was correct.  Gold’s lip twitched and she pressed her advantage, “I know there’s some kind of fight for power between the two of you.”

 

“You shouldn’t try to play the game when you don’t know the rules, dearie,” Gold hissed through gritted teeth.

 

“Probably not, but I do know the players,” she said with a shrug. “I’m sure Viridans will be more than willing to take me up on my offer.  If there’s one thing I know about that woman is she’s willing to do whatever it takes to be the one with all the power.”

 

“And why, pray tell, are you coming to me first when it’s clear you’re already firmly under the thumb of our noble mayor.  Perhaps you’re here as some kind of spy, not a very good one I might add.”

 

He sneered at her but Emma knew she had struck a nerve.  She walked further into the shop, keeping her eyes trained on him.  When she got closer she had to fight to keep her gaze on him. Killian had been wrong, Gold wasn’t a crocodile he was a shark with cold, lifeless eyes that still somehow glittered with malice, waiting to strike.  For the first time she truly believed that the man standing in front of her was the Dark One.

 

“I figured I’d get a straight answer from you, even if you did decide to put me through the wringer for it,” she said with a casual air, her heartbeat thrumming in her veins. “One way or another I’m going to find out what I want to know.  It’s up to you to decide if you’re going to be a part of it willingly or dragged in unwillingly.”

 

Gold’s face was impassive but the curious yellow gleam she had thought she imagined before made a fleeting appearance once again.  Though his hands were encased in cotton gloves she could see his fingers pressing onto the counter and imagined the knuckles were white from the pressure.  For a moment she thought he would lash out at her, either with his words or the cane she could see resting by his side. Instead the moment passed and he gave her a chilling smile.

 

“I see you have yet to pass on that ring to whomever it’s intended for,” he said silkily, eyes flicking down to where the ring sat on her shirt and then back up. “Such a shame that they don’t know what they mean to you, especially when they may end up a casualty in this war you’re determined to start.”

 

“I’m not looking to start a war,” she said haltingly, unable to stop her hand from reaching for Killian’s ring. “I just want answers.”

 

“Ms. Viridans has a little known about farmhouse out on the western edge of town,” Gold said flippantly, ignoring her protests. “If there’s anything to be found it will be there.”

 

“Thank you,” she breathed out, relief flooding through her.

 

“You still owe me a favor, dearie.  Don’t go forgetting that.”

 

Emma nodded, too elated that she was finally getting somewhere to say anything.  She turned and was nearly at the front door when Gold cleared his throat.

 

“Oh and Miss White?” She looked back at him and found him giving her the crocodile smile Killian had spoken of. “I do hope you give that ring to Mr. Jones soon.  I’d hate for him to think his affections are unreciprocated.”

 

She stood frozen at the door, her hands shaking at her sides.  The threat in his words was all too easy to hear. It would only take a single misstep with Gold and Killian would be the one to pay the price.  With an unsteady hand she wrenched open the door and practically ran out of the shop into the weak winter sunshine.

 

In her need to get as far away from the shop as quickly as possible she forgot that Killian was waiting for her.  As she hurried down the walkway he called after her causing her to stumble to a stop two shops down from Gold’s. When he caught up to her he placed himself in front of her, gripping her elbows with his hand and hook.

 

“What is it lass?  What did that crocodile say to you?”

 

“More like a shark,” she said with a hysterical laugh.  The sound startled the both of them and she took a deep breath to calm herself, “He said nothing that I didn’t already know.  It doesn’t matter, really.”

 

“Of course it matters,” Killian said in a low growl, his eyes narrowing as he looked over her shoulder towards Gold’s shop. “He obviously upset you and-”

 

“It’s fine, Jones, I got what I wanted out of him,” she said quickly to keep him from riling himself up into thinking that confronting Gold would be a good idea.  He gave her a skeptical look so she slid her arms mostly out of his grasp until she was the one holding onto his hand and hook, “He just rattled me. I promise I’m fine now.”

 

She squeezed his hand and slightly tugged on his hook to emphasize her point.  Killian looked down at their hands, seemingly getting a hold of his temper. It wasn’t until he looked back up at her with wide, disbelieving eyes that she understood.  With a small smile she repeated her actions, letting him know without words that she accepted him as he was, hook and all.

 

“So-” he said gruffly, clearing his throat as his eyes darted back down to her hand and his hook, “What did you find out?”

 

“Viridans has a farm on the west side of town,” she said quietly, revelling in the simple pleasure of holding his hand. “He didn’t say what we’d find there but that not a lot of people know about it.”

 

“I’ve never heard word of it so if it’s truly there I’m sure we’ll find something of use-” he looked back up at her with a shy smile, his blue eyes soft and warm, “Shall we look into it?”

 

“Yeah,” she said a bit breathlessly.  Blushing she let go of his hand and hook, “I don’t know exactly where it is though.”

 

“There’s not much out that way, which is probably why no one’s realized she has property out there,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m sure we’ll find it easily enough.”

 

“If not today we can always keep looking until we do.”

 

Killian’s brow raised and his smile turned playful, “Eager to spend more time with me lass?”

 

“Maybe,” she said seriously, dropping her gaze to where her hand had drifted up to his ring unconsciously.

 

“Then I’m honored,” he said after a pause.

 

Emma looked up and saw that he was frowning slightly as he focused on the ring she was worrying on its chain.  Slowly she let her hand drop away but Killian kept his eyes on the ring. When he realized he was staring the tips of his ears grew red as his eyes darted to her feet, above her head, and back to the ring before settling on her face.

 

“Ready to go?” She asked, letting her amusement seep into her words.

 

“Uh, yeah-” Killian shook his head and gave her a crooked grin as he swung his arm out towards the roadway. “Your chariot awaits.”

 

She shook her head when she noticed he was presenting his car where it was sitting across the roadway.  With an amused smile she walked towards it and had to bite her cheek against a laugh as he jogged past her to open the door for her.  He gave her a short bow before she slid into the seat, letting her laughter unfurl as he waggled his eyebrows at her when he closed the door.

 

Emma stayed quiet as they made their way towards the edge of town.  Killian was humming to himself, stealing glances at her every so often.  After catching him for the third time she couldn’t keep the smile off her face, mirroring the one on his.

 

As they reached the west end of town Emma kept her eyes open for anything that would lead them to the farmhouse.  It had snowed recently and while in town the roadways and walkways had been cleared only the main roadway had been cleared where they found themselves.  Killian slowed the car to a walking pace easing her search. Finally after nearly quarter of an hour she spotted what looked like a snow covered pathway cutting through a wide barren field.

 

“There,” she said pointing it out to Killian.

 

“Aye, I see it.”

 

Her breath caught in her throat at the sailor’s yes Killian uttered.  He seemed unaware that he had said it, his eyes scanning the roadway ahead of them.  She tried not to put too much hope into it but it was nearly impossible when it made him sound like his true self.

 

“I’m going to take us to the woods,” he said, pointing to the treeline ahead of them with his hook. “They’ll hide the car better and we can approach the farm hopefully unseen.”

 

She nodded her agreement trying to keep her eyes on the pathway she had spotted until it was too far behind them.  Killian’s eyes kept looking to the mirror attached to the glass window in front of him and she figured he was doing the same.  They were soon within the shelter of the trees where he maneuvered into a small clearing on the side of the roadway and stopped the car.

 

“This’ll do for now.  No one seems to come out this far and I doubt they will with the storm that’s coming in,” he said as he pivoted in his seat to reach behind him.  He turned back around and handed her a grey knit hat, “Here, the wind’s picking up and it wouldn’t do to end up with frostbitten ears.”

 

“What about you?” She asked, lightly running her fingers over the folded brim of the hat.

 

“Don’t worry about me, lass.  I run warm.”

 

Jamming the hat on her head she hoped her blush went unnoticed as she remembered just how warm he had been the nights they had slept side by side.  With little difficulty she found the handle to open her door and stepped out into the biting wind whistling through the trees.

 

As soon as Killian stepped around the front of the car they moved forward through the woods.  The trees weren’t as close as they were on the opposite side of town, closer to the sea, and there were large bushes filled with bright red berries scattered throughout.  Soon enough they reached the treeline and found themselves at the base of a small hill.

 

“We must be miles back from the road or else we would have seen the farmhouse if it is at the top,” Killian said with an impressed hum, looking eastward.

 

“Or it could be just on the other side of it,” she said looking east as well and seeing nothing but an expanse of white. “Guess we’ll have to get up there to find out.”

 

“Of course, after you lass.”

 

Emma started up the slope, her breath puffing out of her mouth in small white clouds.  She could hear Killian’s heavy boots crunching through the snow behind her. A sliver of happiness sat in her chest as she remembered how they had traveled through Sherwood Forest in a similar fashion with her leading the way and him close behind.  When they crested the hill she was so lost in her memories she found herself staring at the farmhouse without truly seeing it. It wasn’t until Killian gave a low hum of triumph from beside her that she noticed it.

 

Unlike the farmsteads in Misthaven the dwelling at the top of the hill was similar to the ones Emma had seen in town.  It was a fairly large wooden structure with walls that were painted white and an elongated porch that wrapped around two sides of it.  The dark roof seemed to sag under the weight of the snow upon it while the chimney was absent of smoke and the windows were darkened, only a few of the many signs that it was uninhabited.  Still, sensing a need for caution, she motioned for Killian to follow her quietly.

 

They quickly made their way onto the porch, trying their best to keep out of sight.  The wood was warped under their feet, creaking with every step they made. Emma looked carefully into one of the windows and discovered a kitchen in the room beyond.  There was a thick layer of dust upon the floor and it looked as though the furnishings in the rooms further in the house were covered with thick white cloths.

 

“There’s no one here,” she murmured quietly as she moved carefully past the window.

 

“Then why are we whispering?” Killian asked from behind her, his amusement easy to hear even with his equally quiet voice.

 

“Just because I can’t see anyone inside doesn’t mean they couldn’t be hiding somewhere else,” she hissed back, easing around the corner of the farmhouse.

 

“We would have seen them on the road behind us or the snow would have been disturbed on the driveway leading up to the house if someone was here before us,” Killian pointed out as he swung around to face her. “We could probably break down the door and ransack the entire house and no one would know for a good long while.”

 

“If Viridans was hiding something out here it’s not in the house,” Emma said in her normal voice, looking at a curious metal sculpture with what appeared to be wheels and a basket hanging from its front by the main door.  Killian followed her gaze and she quickly went on, hoping to distract him from realizing it was yet another thing she was clueless about, “There were no footprints in the dust and nothing looked as though it had been moved in a while.  She must have somewhere else to keep the things she doesn’t want found.”

 

“How about there?”

 

Emma looked in the direction that Killian was pointing and saw nothing but another field full of snow.  It took a few seconds for her to pick out the grey stone doorway that looked as though it lead underground poking out of the expanse of white.  The only reason she had noticed it at all was because of the rusted metal cylinder sitting on top.

 

“What is it?”

 

“A storm cellar,” Killian said as he descended from the porch and marched towards it.

 

“A what?” She called after him as she followed.

 

“A storm cellar,” he repeated, turning slightly to give her a grin even as he kept walking. “It’s just what its name implies, lass, it’s merely somewhere safe to retreat when a storm is particularly destructive.  The thing is we don’t get many tornadoes here in Maine and while storm cellars aren’t exactly rare, locking the door to them is.”

 

Emma frowned both at the need for such a thing as a storm cellar and at the large lock barring their way in.

 

“There has to be something down there if she’s gone to the trouble of locking it,” she said half to herself.

 

Thinking quickly she looked around and spotted a length of broken fencing made of thin metal ropes.  Careful not to cut herself on the sharp edges at the ends or the barbs of metal along its length she dragged it back to the door.

 

“What are you doing?” Killian asked with mild alarm.

 

“Picking the lock,” she said distractedly, bending close to the door to get a closer look.

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said quickly, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. “It’s one thing walking around a deserted farmhouse.  It’s quite another descending into a one way cellar with only one way out.”

 

“Scared?” She asked only half jokingly.

 

“There’s a difference between fear and strategy,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “We should come back when we’re better prepared for whatever could be down there.  Having a weapon and some backup would do nicely.”

 

“Here-” Emma reached into her boot and pulled out her dagger, handing it to him. “Now you have a weapon.  As for backup, you watch my back and I’ll watch yours.”

 

“How are you supposed to have my back when you gave me your only knife?”

 

She gave him an amused grin, “I never said that was my only one.”

 

Kneeling in front of the door she pried apart two pieces of the twisted metal.  The lock was much like ones she had encountered time and again on the chests she had looted from Misthaven ships.  While she longed for the tools she had kept in her cabin on the Brooke for such an occasion she knew the lock could still be opened with what she had.  After a few moments of manipulating the metal pieces in the lock it popped open with a satisfactory thunk.

 

Emma looked up at Killian with a wide smile and found him looking back at her with open admiration.

 

“Bloody hell, lass, that was the fastest I’ve ever seen a lock picked and I’m practically an expert at it myself!”

 

She fought against a blush as she dropped the fencing and stood, “I’m usually faster but I haven’t had to do it for a while.”

 

“Then you’ll have to show me your tricks.  After we discover what’s hiding down there, of course.”

 

Killian removed the lock from the door with his hook and turned the handle with his hand, pulling the door open once it was unlatched.  Emma looked in and could see nothing but the wooden stairs leading down into the dark. The rich smell of soil and wet wood wafted out of the cellar, reminding her of the root cellar in the castle at Misthaven.  A sudden pang of homesickness hit her and she bit her lip against it.

 

“I hope you’ll at least allow me to go first,” Killian said dryly.

 

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed, still shaken by the depth of her longing.

 

“Are you alright, lass?” He asked, peering closely at her with concern in his eyes.

 

“I’m fine,” she said giving him a reassuring smile. “So are you going down or do I need to take my dagger back?”

 

“I’m going,” he said quickly. “Don’t come down until I give you the all clear.”

 

Emma nodded with a huff and he raised his brow, not moving until she nodded in earnest.  He stepped carefully onto the top stair and slowly made his way down into the dark cellar.  She could only see the top of his head as he reached the bottom and tried not to worry as he disappeared into the darkness.  Suddenly a bright light flared and he was back at the foot of the stairs looking up at her.

 

“Come on down, lass, there’s plenty to see.”

 

She descended slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the harsh unnatural light illuminating the space.  The cellar wasn’t large, barely six large strides from one side to the other and from back to front, and just tall enough for Killian to stand without having to stoop.  However it felt much smaller due to the floor to ceiling bookcases lining each wall, every shelf crammed with books, and a large writing desk with a hard backed chair in the dead center of the room.  The surface of the desk was piled with papers, some stacks thicker than three or four books on top of another would be.

 

Looking around in awe Emma found herself drawn to the books while Killian drifted towards the desk.  She pulled one off the shelf, opening it to a random point and felt her excitement grow as words for a spell jumped out at her.  Flipping to a different section another spell’s instructions were on the page. Eagerness overtook her and she grabbed another book without setting down the first, almost jumping in glee when she discovered it was another spellbook.  It only took looking through a third book, written in the language of the Fairies, that convinced her she’d found what she’d been hoping for. Elated she turned to Killian to show him what she’d discovered only to find him sitting at the desk looking at through papers with disgust.

 

“What is it?”

 

“She’s- it’s- I don’t even know where to begin,” he murmured, shaking his head slowly.  He grabbed one of the papers in front of him, waving it at her, “Embezzlement, bribery, blackmail, you name it she’s guilty of it.  I knew she was a piece of work but I had no idea.”

 

“Is there, I mean did you find anything about your brother?” She asked hesitantly, not wanting to upset him further.

 

“No, not yet,” he said looking up at her with a frown. “I’d have to look through all of this but I have no doubt there’s something here.”

 

Before she could respond the sound of someone walking across the snow cut her off.  Killian hastily jumped up from the desk and doused the light. He then reached her in two strides, pushing her into the darkened corner closest to the open doorway his finger over his lips.  She nodded her understanding and strained to listen to whoever it was approach the door.

 

“Come on out of there!”

 

Emma breathed out harshly at the sound of Walsh’s voice as it echoed in the cellar.  She would have preferred Zelena or even Robin, knowing that she could talk her way out of trouble with either of them.  Walsh on the other hand was clearly looking for a reason to assert his authority over her, especially if it ended with her in his jailhouse.

 

“I know you’re in there, come out with your hands up!”

 

Killian bent his head and whispered almost too quiet to hear, “Whatever you do don’t come out until you’re certain we’ve gone.”

 

“What?” Emma hissed.

 

“Better me than you, lass.”

 

“No!”

 

“Emma, please!”

 

In the dim light she could see him begging her with his eyes.  She wanted to stomp her foot and charge up the steps herself, or keep Killian at her side until Walsh was forced to come down, or a thousand other things as long as she knew Killian wouldn’t be the one to suffer.  Instead she nodded haltingly, feeling as though she was sending him to the hangman’s noose.

 

He gave her a reassuring smile along with an encouraging nod.  As he turned to walk away from her she stopped him, her hand gripping his hook tightly.  Not stopping to think she raised up onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, almost on the corner of his mouth.  His eyes lit up with elation as his mouth curled into an awed smile.

 

“This is your last warning!” Walsh yelled, his impatience clear.

 

“Hold on to your breeches, Sheriff, I’m coming up!” Killian called out, still smiling at her.

 

“Kieran Jones.  You just won me twenty dollars,” Walsh said smugly. “When we got the call about trespassers I knew it had to be you ferreting around out here.”

 

“Alas, the only weasel in this town is you but I’m honored you’ve been thinking of me,” he said with a wink, slowly bringing his hand to her cheek.

 

“Alright, Jones, you’ve had your fun,” Walsh growled.

 

“I think my fun is just beginning,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb gently over her cheek.

 

“Go,” she whispered, unable to keep herself from leaning into his touch. “I can’t leave if you two are still here.”

 

“Too right,” he sighed, dropping his hand.

 

“Jones!” Walsh barked, stepping onto the first stair.

 

“Alright, alright!”

 

He stepped away from her but didn’t turn.  She gave him a smile of her own. With a final nod he spun towards the doorway and craned his neck to look upwards.

 

“Welp, you’ve caught me Sheriff,” he said with false contrition.

 

Raising his hands over his head he began to climb the stairs.  Emma watched until his boots were no longer in sight. She dropped her head and let out an unsteady breath trying to calm her nerves, only to have her attention snap back to the open doorway when she heard Walsh yelling.  Straining her ears she heard the slam of a car door, the roar of it starting, and the sound of dirt being churned up under its wheels.

 

Terrified of what she would find she made herself wait until she was certain there were no sounds coming from above.  Slowly she made her way up the stairs, halting every few steps to listen. Finally she emerged from the cellar and found herself completely alone on the snowy farmstead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't pass up the opportunity to use the farmhouse scene between the two of them. In fact I watched it several times to make sure I had it right and not for any other possible reason, not at all. I especially needed to watch the scene in the forest about winning hearts with their theme playing that preceded it, for accuracy of course.
> 
> Next: Discovering how dark the Dark One can be and the consequences of their meddling.


	17. The Calm Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to have this ready to go the weekend OUAT aired the series finale but here we are. Enjoy!

“Emma! Where have you been? What happened?”

Emma ignored Grace’s questions as she situated herself as close as she could to the small galley stove. She was nearly frozen through, having had to walk to the Jewel from Zelena’s farmhouse. Matters had only worsened when the storm Killian had mentioned had rolled in when she was only halfway back, dusting her with snow like powdered sugar over a cake. By the time she had stumbled up the gangplank she could barely feel her fingers or toes and her lips were painfully chapped from the bitter wind. The stove didn’t give off much heat but it was enough to begin thawing her out.

As cold as she was she was more concerned with what had happened to Killian after he’d left her in the storm cellar. She hadn’t been able to discern one way or another from the tracks left by Walsh’s car or the jumble of footprints in the snow in front of the farmhouse. Her mother would have had no trouble knowing who had stepped where but it was a skill Emma hadn’t inherited. To her untrained eyes it had looked like nothing more than tamped down snow. She had given up trying to make sense of it quickly and had gone back down into the cellar to try and decide what to do.

It had taken longer than she had liked to find something worth taking with her when she left. The spellbooks were useless where there was no magic and most of the papers Killian had been looking through were just as worthless to her. She had known that not only was there a limit to her time left on the farm but that once she left she would never have the opportunity to return and find everything waiting for her return. Zelena would either set someone to guard the cellar or move everything somewhere Emma would never find it again.

In the end she had told herself that Zelena would find out from Walsh that Killian had been there and it wasn’t too far a stretch that she would assume that Emma had been there as well. Knowing that she had done away with all pretense and had begun to search in earnest. Books that didn’t hold the answers she had been looking for were tossed to the floor one by one while the ones that seemed promising were placed onto the seat of the lone chair in the cellar.

She’d moved quickly but methodically and found three books that she thought could hold the answers she sought. Although she had been on borrowed time she had still taken some of it to sort through the papers on the desk. While any information on them were pure lies Emma still couldn’t help but wanting to find something to ease Killian’s mind about his cursed memories of Thompson’s death. Luck had been on her side when she’d opened a large beige folded cover that had a thick stack of papers inside with the name Thomas Jones written several times throughout and she had quickly added it to her meager stack of books.

In one last act of defiance she had taken every stack of papers from the desk and tossed them in the air, adding them to the mess she had created on the floor with the books. She had been satisfied that even if Zelena discovered the destruction sooner rather than later it would be a good while before she realized what was missing. With that she had carefully stolen back out of the cellar, closed the door and locked it behind her, and had made her way back to the Jewel.

“Here-” Grace forced a mug of tea into her still painfully cold hands, “I know you’re angry and hurt but that’s no reason to ignore your own well being over it.”

Emma looked up and saw Grace watching her worriedly. It belatedly occurred to her that Grace thought she had been wandering out in the snow upset over her fight with Killian.

“It’s not- uh, we sorted it out,” she said into her mug, partly for the warmth and partly to hide her blush.

“Oh? Oh! Really? That’s, um, that’s good,” Grace stammered, her cheeks a bright red.

Emma sighed, wondering how she could dig herself deeper into embarrassment, and mumbled, “We didn’t sleep together.”

“I didn’t- I mean- even if you had but you didn’t-” Grace stumbled to a stop, her whole face aflame. She gave her a sheepish smile before narrowing her eyes at her, “So you didn’t sleep together but something else happened, right?”

“Why would you say that?” Emma asked warily.

“Because you said you were coming back here when you left Granny’s but that was over five hours ago. Also, if you had just talked with Killian you wouldn’t be blushing as much as you are or wearing that hat you definitely didn’t have before. So something happened and it must be something good.”

Grace’s smile had turned predatory. As much as Emma didn’t want to discuss her and Killian’s reconciliation she was far less inclined to share everything that had happened after. She had even taken the time to hide her findings from Zelena’s farmhouse in her cabin before stumbling, half frozen, into the galley. In a stroke of luck Marty came barreling into the galley talking almost too quickly for her to understand with Roland and Turner in his wake.

“Did you hear? Killian was arrested but he escaped and that bastard Walsh and Uncle Robin are trying to find him and Zelena was spitting mad! She was yelling so much that people started whispering that she was unfit for office. Whatever that means.”

“Killian was arrested?” Grace asked with an interested hum.

Emma resolutely kept her eyes on doorway crowded by the three men, “How do you know all this?”

“He gave us the slip. Again,” Turner said with a frown. “We found him at the jailhouse listening in on Zelena’s ranting and raving. She was fairly loud.”

“I don’t know who she’s more mad at Walsh or Killian. It even sounded like she had started throwing things by the time we scarpered off,” Roland added, moving further into the galley to sit at the table.

“Exactly how long did you listen to her?” Emma asked suspiciously.

All three of them flushed and looked away. She looked back at Grace but to her surprise found her smiling. Turning back she waited for the answer she knew she wouldn’t like.

“I heard almost the whole thing,” Marty said sheepishly before squaring his shoulders and looking her in the eye. “I’m not going to apologize for it neither ‘cause I learned some things. Like Killian had run off at first but Walsh had caught him and put him in shackles but he got out of those and got away when they got to the jailhouse. Walsh sent Uncle Robin to go looking for him and he waited for Zelena to show up.”

“We found him right as she stormed into the jailhouse-” Roland continued. “At first she kept nattering on about some farmhouse and trespassing, not letting Walsh get a word in edgewise. Then Walsh told her about Killian’s escape. That’s when the yelling really started.”

“Whatever’s at that farmhouse must be important with the way she was carrying on,” Turner said thoughtfully. “It’s too bad we didn’t know about it earlier.”

Emma kept her face impassive. She could sense that the others were starting to think of ways to get to the farmhouse to discover its secrets. With an inward sigh she realized she needed to pull their focus in another direction.

“Were you there when Killian escaped?” She asked as offhandedly as she could, knowing that they would immediately pick up on her trying to downplay her interest.

“I was trailing Uncle Robin at the time when he got yelled at to get back to the jailhouse through that black box he keeps on his hip,” Marty supplied helpfully. He eyed her mug and turned hopefully to Grace, “Can I get a cuppa? It’s bloody freezing out there.”

“Sure and while I’m doing that Emma can tell us what happened with Killian today that has her concerned with where he is now,” Grace said breezily.

“What?” Roland asked, looking at her with wide excited eyes. “You mean he actually went after you when you left Granny’s?”

“Yeah,” she said warily, keeping up the act.

“I knew it!” Roland whooped, turning excitedly to Turner. “Looks like I won! I told you he was going to and he did. You knew the boy but I know the man.”

“And if I knew you’d be a terrible winner I’d have never taken the bet,” Turner grumbled, marching over to the table to sit next to her and not Roland. “Can I bother you for a cup as well, Grace? If I have to listen to his bragging I’d rather do it with something I won’t be tempted to dump in his lap.”

“Talk about sore feelings,” Roland said with a wide smile. He looked at her with glee, “So what happened? After you stormed out of Granny’s he did too but out the back.”

“Yeah, Deborah was hollering after him to stay. Nearly set my ears to bleeding,” Marty grumbled.

“Just so I’m clear, you made a bet about me and Killian?” Emma asked in as neutral tone as she could, fighting both amusement and indignation.

“Um… yes?” Roland answered, his smile slipping.

“And what did you win?”

To her astonishment Roland flushed a deep red and when she looked to Turner for the answer he was studiously avoiding her gaze and blushing just as hard. She couldn’t help the snorting laugh that escaped at their discomfort.

“Nevermind, I don’t want to know,” she said waving them off with a grin.

“But what’d you win?” Marty asked, confused.

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Roland said gruffly.

“Or never,” Turner added under his breath causing Emma to laugh again.

“Fine, treat me like a kid. You know, I came along because I thought I’d actually get to do something, prove myself, but you’re just mollycoddling me like my parents and the Merry Men. It ain’t bloody fair! I’m sixteen not six!” Marty burst out, kicking at the door frame.

“Acting like a spoiled brat isn’t helping,” Emma snapped, all traces of humor gone. “I told you before: prove to me that you can actually follow orders and respect each of us and I’ll be more than happy to treat you like the adult you seem to think you are. For now you’re confined to the ship-”

“But-”

“I’m not finished,” she snapped. “You will stay on this ship under someone’s watch at all times. You will perform the chores assigned to you without complaint and if you do a half ass job on them you get to do them again. Do all that and show that I can trust you and we’ll back off, don’t and the next time I’ll throw you in the brig. Do you understand?”

“You’re not my mother!”

“No, I’m your Captain. Do you understand?”

Marty scowled. Emma could see his jaw clenching and for a moment he was the spitting image of his father, a deep loathing for her flashing in his eyes. He gave her a terse nod and stormed out of the galley. She could hear him stomping down to the crew quarters and winced when the door slammed shut.

“That was a little harsh, don’t you think?” Grace asked softly.

“He has to understand his actions have consequences,” Emma sighed, slumping down in her chair. “Granny and Red were much harsher when I got out of line. I would spend three days in the brig for talking back and got a month of muck duties for skipping out on one dinner. It took us nearly getting caught by Regi- er, Zelena because of my little rebellions for me to stay in line.”

“He’s always been like this, takes after his father too much,” Roland scoffed. “I’m fairly certain they’re both the reason Belle’s hair is as grey as it is.”

“You did what you had to. It’s better he learn the lesson from you than from someone less forgiving,” Turner said with a grim smile.

They sat in silence as Grace handed mugs to Roland and Turner. Sipping on her own lukewarm tea Emma wondered if Red and Granny had felt as guilty after punishing her. She vowed to apologize to them for her past behavior as soon as they remembered who they were. Before she could spiral into melancholy Grace placed a bowl in front of her.

“Lamb stew,” Grace said with a smile as she sat at the table with her own steaming bowl and mug. Her smile turned knowing as she stirred her tea, “So, you and Killian?”

“He caught up with me,” she said reluctantly, dragging her spoon through her stew almost annoyed that Marty’s outburst hadn’t fully diverted their attention. “I got an apology and then we went our separate ways.”

“And that’s all that happened?” Roland asked, eyeing her skeptically. “No heartfelt declarations or a passionate kiss? Some make-up sex perhaps?”

“Roland!”

“No!”

“Unbelievable, Rol.”

“What?” He asked with wide eyed innocence before giving her a devious grin. “I’m sure if you asked he’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

“Alright, I’m going to eat in my cabin,” Emma said as she pushed back from the table and grabbed her bowl and mug.

“You don’t need to do that,” Roland said quickly.

“But I want to,” she said, knowing that she had effectively distracted them from talk of Zelena’s farm. She yawned unexpectedly, the tumultuous events of the day catching up with her, and quickly ran through a plausible lie to satisfy their curiosity over Killian, “Nothing happened with him. After we talked I needed to clear my head and walked around town. I stopped to sit by the water, lost track of time, headed back when it started snowing. That’s all.”

“We didn’t mean to upset you,” Grace said apologetically.

“You didn’t,” she assured them. “I just want to change out of these damp clothes, eat, and try not to think about what Zelena might do to Killian when they find him.”

“He’s probably laying low in the library or being hidden somewhere else with Pinocchio’s help,” Grace assured her. “I’m sure he’ll tell us when we go tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she said nodding through a yawn.

“Go on,” Turner said with an amused smile. “I’ll make sure everything’s as it should be for tonight.”

“Thanks.”

Emma didn’t have to exaggerate the tired dragging of her feet as she left the galley. The heat of the stove had only partially warmed her through leaving her with aching joints and a chill that had settled in her bones. Her own small stove didn’t give off enough heat to warm her cabin completely but it was enough to boil a kettle for the hot water bottles she looked forward to sliding in between the blankets of her bed. She fully intended to be comfortably warm as she settled down to read through some of the books she had found at the farmhouse.

Her plans were immediately abandoned when she pushed open the door to her quarters and found Killian kneeling in front of her stove trying to coax the pitiful flames higher.

“You stacked the wood wrong,” she said dumbly, trying to determine if her overtired mind was playing tricks on her or not.

“Seeing as I only have the one hand and it’s practically frostbitten you’ll have to pardon my attempts at it, lass.”

He said it through clenched teeth but before she could take offense she realized that he wasn’t speaking in anger but from being cold. His whole frame was shuddering intermittently with the end of his left arm in the pit of the other while his hand was seemingly as close to the small flames as he could get it without burning the flesh. He turned and gave her what she assumed was supposed to be a disarming smile but it looked more like a grimace.

Emma quickly closed the door behind her. After setting the mug and bowl down on the table she tore the thick quilt from her bed and draped it over his shoulders. For good measure she pulled the knit hat he had given her off her head and tucked it back on his before gently nudging him aside to tend to the fire.

“The tea is lukewarm but the stew is hot,” she said absently as she carefully rearranged the wood and grabbed more kindling. “Once this gets going I’ll go get a kettle from the galley-”

“You don’t need to do that lass, the fire and blanket are enough,” he said gently even as he continued to shiver.

“I want to,” she said simply, looking at him only long enough to see his mouth drop open slightly in surprise. “Go on, it’s only going to get cold and I’ve almost got this going.”

“What will you eat?” He asked, still stubbornly kneeling beside her.

“I’ll grab another bowl for myself when I go get the kettle. Grace probably made enough to feed a crew of twenty instead of the five we have,” she said, gently blowing at the flames to coax them higher.

“I, uh, I’d prefer if no one else knew I was here, lass,” he said, ducking his head when she turned to look at him. “It’s easier to hide when only a few know where to look.”

“Then I’ll just get a second helping for myself once you’ve finished,” she said resolutely, sitting back on her heels. He looked up at her warily, “Eat it hot or eat it cold but I’m not going to touch that bowl until you do.”

“You’re a bit bossy,” he grumbled, but she could see a smile twitching at his lips.

“Captain,” she said gesturing around her at the ship. “Being bossy is a bit of a requirement. I’d also like to know how long you’ve been on board. I don’t have time to be worrying about stowaways on top of everything else.”

“Is there something vexing you?” He asked as the smile that had been making an appearance turned down into a frown. “You weren’t discovered by anyone were you? I tried to distract Walsh as best I could but I didn’t have much time or many options and-”

“Jones!” Emma broke in, laughing as quietly as she could. She stood and moved what was usually her chair to the corner of table closest to the stove, “Sit. Eat. I’ll tell you how my day went. If you finish every bite I might even get you a biscuit from the galley to go with your tea.”

“Ha, bloody, ha lass,” Killian said as he stood. He was no longer shaking from the cold but he kept a tight hold on the quilt around his shoulders, “You really don’t need to do all this.”

“I said I want to-” she narrowed her eyes at him, looking pointedly at the chair, “Don’t make me decide otherwise.”

“Fine, you win,” he sighed, grabbing the bowl and settling down in the chair. “Happy?”

“I will be when the bowls empty,” she said with a smirk.

Killian rolled his eyes at her but began to eat. She fought against the urge to stick her tongue out at him in retaliation. Instead she moved across the cabin to the small wardrobe and grabbed a thick misshapen grey woolen sweater Granny had knit her years before. She exchanged it for her still damp coat knowing it was almost as good at warming her up as the hot water bottles she had been looking forward to.

She turned back to Killian and found him watching her, spoon halfway towards his mouth.

“What?” She asked a little self consciously, tugging nervously on the sweater’s hem.

“Nothing, lass. You just look cozy is all.”

“It’s cold out!” She said defensively, stalking over to the stove to try and soak in the heat. “I could barely feel my toes by the time I got back here.”

Killian’s spoon clattered into the bowl, “You walked back?!”

“It’s not like I had a choice,” she said with a shrug. “It wasn’t so bad, at least until it started snowing.”

“You could have hotwired my car or-” he looked about the cabin wildly before throwing up his hand, causing the quilt to slide off his shoulders, “or called one of your mates to come get you or something! Jesus, lass, you deserve this meal more than I do!”

“What did I say about that bowl Jones?” She asked with an arch of her brow.

Killian muttered under his breath but picked his spoon back up. She gave him a satisfied smile, turning so that her back was being warmed by the stove.

Once he took a bite she began telling him what she had been up to when he had left her in the cellar. He raised his eyebrows when she mentioned the papers she had found, his knuckles going white around the handle of the spoon, but he’d gamely continued eating. She quickly told him of her cold journey back to the Jewel, finishing her tale with Marty’s outburst and his subsequent punishment.

“Young lads are never easy to handle, especially when they believe they’re in the right,” Killian sighed, pushing the empty bowl away from him. He tapped his fingers on the table and she could see he was trying to not seem to eager, “Those papers, lass, did you bring them back with you?”

“I did. Hold on.”

If it had been anyone but Killian she would have made them close their eyes or even leave the room. Instead she walked to the corner of the port and aft side walls where there were shelves filled with books and items Liam had left behind along with a small safe. Ignoring that she pulled out a leather case that held a sextant and reached deeper into the shelf, grabbing the papers and leaving behind the books. Once she returned the sextant to its place she turned around and saw him watching her with a gleam of anticipation in his eyes.

“Why not put it in the safe?” He asked with a nod at the green metal box at her elbow.

“I, um, don’t have the key,” she said with a grimace. “Plus I had planned to look over it while I ate my stew but I think you should get the first look at it.”

She moved back across to hand it to him, not missing the way his eyes fixed on the papers. His hand was shaking as he took them from her and she knew it had nothing to do with the cold. As soon as he opened the cover she knew he wouldn’t being paying her any more attention. Without saying a word she took the bowl and quietly left the cabin.

With relief she discovered that the galley was empty but Grace had been kind enough to keep the stew warming on the stove. Moving quietly so as not to not draw someone towards the noise she set up a tray with a second bowl of stew, a package of biscuits that were sold in town she’d taken a liking to, and a kettle filled with water. After a little thought and prodding from her grumbling stomach she added the last hunk of bread they had to the tray, making a silent promise to make more in the morning.

When she kicked the door closed behind her she wasn’t surprised to see Killian hunched over the table, his nose practically dragging across the page as he read. His hand was buried deep in his hair, the blunt end of his left arm holding down the turned pages as though they’d fly away. He took no notice of her until she awkwardly tried clear off the corner of the table with one hand while balancing the tray with the other.

“What’s all this then?” He said with an amused smile as he moved an ink pot, quills, and her journal out of her way. “I take it no one was in the kitchen judging by the spread you’ve brought.”

“Galley,” she corrected as she set the tray down and grabbed the kettle. “Even if there had been I would have said it was all for me. I haven’t eaten anything since you interrupted me halfway through my lunch.”

“But you-”

“I know. You needed it more.”

Emma busied herself with placing the kettle on the stove, her cheeks hot. She idly wondered if she’d ever feel on even footing with him. Fiddling with the handle of the kettle she remembered how off kilter he’d made her feel even as far back as their first meeting in Tuiscint, bringing a small smile to her face.

“Thank you, Emma,” Killian said, an earnestness in his voice that had her turning to look at him. “For more than just the food and shelter.”

“Is it what you’ve been looking for?” She asked almost hesitantly, hoping she’d actually grabbed what he needed.

“That and more,” he sighed, his eyes flitting back to the papers in front of him.

“Is it enough?”

“It should be but I can’t use any of it.”

“What? Why?”

He gave her a pained smile, “As much as I appreciate you taking this for me, and I do Emma I really do, but you took it from the storm cellar that we broke into illegally. I might have been able to get Archer out there to take a look or even Nolan but now? It’s stolen evidence and won’t make a damn bit of difference in the eyes of the law.”

“So I did it all for nothing,” she said dejectedly, wrapping her arms around her middle. “I thought I was doing you a favor and turns out I ruined everything. I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Killian said vehemently as he shot to his feet crossing to her. He gently gripped her elbow, “Those papers prove that Viridans had my brother killed. We have something concrete on her now, it’s only a matter of time before we find something else. Just having these might finally convince Archer to reopen the case, even if he can’t use them to make an arrest. Don’t despair, lass, things are looking up.”

“If you say so,” she said skeptically, guilt settling like lead shot in her belly.

“I do,” he said with a decisive nod. He gently tugged at her arm and lead her to the table, “Now it’s your turn to eat while I regale you with the tale of my day. No arguments.”

“But-”

“I can be just as stubborn as you,” he said, narrowing his eyes. Then his look softened and he whispered, “Please eat. For me?”

“Okay,” she whispered back, grabbing one of the bowls and the bread before sitting.

“It was easy to give Walsh the slip in the farmyard-” he began, taking the other bowl before moving back to the stove, “I merely slipped the ridiculous hat he was wearing over his eyes, tripped him up a bit and made a break for it.”

“Really?” She asked skeptically around a mouthful of bread.

“I would have given him a good kick in the rear as well but I don’t need assaulting an officer on my record,” he said, waving his spoon at her, his bowl balanced on his left forearm against his chest. “I didn’t get far but it got him away from you in that cellar. He cuffed me and threw me in his cruiser, prattling on and on about finally getting charges to stick and getting what’s been coming to me. I let him blather on while I shimmied out of my prosthesis. They always cuff me above the sheath and somehow never seem to remember that I can easily pry it off. Once I got it off it was easy to slip the cuff over my wrist.”

“Where’s your hook now?” She asked looking around the room for it.

“Left it behind,” he answered with a shrug. “I only had a few seconds to catch Baum off guard when he opened the car door at the station. Lucky for me he underestimates how dexterous a man with one hand can be. Of course he probably didn’t expect to be locked in the back of his own cruiser while I made myself scarce either. I could hear him hollering after me for a fair distance and knew I couldn’t be seen anywhere in town.”

She lowered the spoonful of stew she had been about to eat,“How long were you waiting to board?”

The kettle started to whistle and Emma moved to tend to it but was waved away by Killian as he set his bowl on the table. He made a show of filling his mug and one that she’d left on the table from her morning meal, taking his time examining the sachets of tea from the town’s market she’d grown fond of before dunking them into the water. It was clear he was putting off answering her question and it made her suspicious that he was about to tell her a lie to put her at ease.

“It was hours wasn’t it?” She sighed, dropping the spoon into the bowl and rubbing her hands over her eyes and then through her hair in frustration and worry. “And you were probably hunkered down somewhere that barely counts as a shelter because there’s nowhere decent to hide that gives you a good view of the gangplank. So not only have you been forced to go on the run but you had to suffer in the snow and cold before you felt it was safe enough to seek shelter and then you find out that the papers you’ve been looking for for so long are pretty much worthless now. All because I couldn’t wait to come up with a better plan back at the farmhouse. I’m-”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” Killian growled. Dropping into the chair across the table from her he sighed, “I won’t spare your feelings and say this is ideal but it’s far better than what I had anticipated happening to me once I’d discovered the proof I’d been looking for. Of course if I’m imposing on you in any way-”

“No!” Emma said loudly. She dropped her eyes to her tea and focused on dressing it to her liking embarrassed by her outburst. She continued quietly, “No, I was worried when I heard Walsh yelling after you left the cellar. Then when Marty told Grace and I you had been captured and then escaped? I… I’m glad you came here to lay low.”

“It’s either here or in Booth’s basement,” he said with a chuckle. He fiddled with the string of his sachet before pulling it from his mug, “I’m not remotely mad or upset with what’s happened today Emma so don’t go beating yourself up over it.”

“Okay,” she said giving him a wan smile. She picked her spoon back up, “You never answered my question.”

“Which one would that be?”

“How long were you on board?”

“I waited until after the two men and the lad boarded. I’d already seen the woman and you but I was too bloody cold to wait to see if the madwoman would arrive as well.”

“Madwo- oh, Regina,” Emma laughed. “She went back to her cabin, said she didn’t feel like sleeping in a hammock when she had a perfectly good bed at her disposal.”

“You'll have to tell me exactly how you fell in with her some time. There aren't many people in town that would even dein to give her the time of day, let alone trust her in what is essentially your home,” Killian said sounding mildly impressed.

Emma frowned slightly but quickly took a sip of her tea to hide it. She had read the book Pinocchio had given her and Regina had been an integral part of the last chapters. While she knew that getting Killian to believe the truth was going to be an uphill battle she hadn't anticipated how pigheaded he would be. Even disregarding the book completely she had thought that perhaps he would have already made several sarcastic comments about the ship or her calling herself captain or any number of things that obviously screamed she was not of that realm. It was disheartening that instead he was choosing to ignore it completely.

“She was the, uh, first person in town to not look at us like we were a band of freaks,” she said, giving him that half-truth.

“I never did either,” he said softly, dropping his gaze to his mug.

“I know,” she said just as soft, ducking her head to catch his eye, “Why do you think I'm letting you stay now?”

“Am I?” He asked with a somewhat hopeful air.

“I’m not going to just toss you back out in that storm,” she scoffed, nodding out the window where they could hear the wind howling.

“I didn't think you would but if we're to keep my presence unknown…” Killian trailed off looking somewhat uncomfortable.

“You're staying here Jones. No arguing,” she chided gently.

“Here as in here?” He asked with raised brows as he looked around the cabin. He looked back at her and gave her a toothy grin, “Are we to share the bed then lass?”

“No, I’ll be-”

“I will not be forcing you out of your bed and onto the floor!” He said dropping his flirty attitude and looking slightly offended.

“I was going to say there are some hooks in here to hang a hammock. As long as you’re not as picky as Regina, that is,” she said with a teasing smile.

“Haven’t had the occasion to sleep in one but I can promise not to complain about it if I find it unsatisfactory,” he said with a wink. He then tapped the table with his finger, “I should warn you though, I snore.”

“I kn-” Emma cut herself off, almost telling him that she already knew. She pushed down the memories of all the other little quirks and habits she’d gotten used to sleeping at his side and with some effort gave him what she hoped was a carefree roll of her eyes, “I knew there was something off about you.”

“And you lass? I’d wager you talk in your sleep,” he said with widened eyes and a gleeful grin. “Then, perhaps, I’ll finally find out all your little secrets.”

Her composure nearly slipped completely. Killian was the only person she’d shared her bed with for more than a single night and while he never mentioned her talking in her sleep it was still a possibility. She knew even if she didn’t there was always the chance that she would have nightmares. It was almost a guarantee with the emotional highs and lows she’d experienced earlier in the day. With him merely across the cabin from her for the night it would be nearly impossible for her to play them off as anything but the terrors they were. Either way the secrets she had been guarding so closely could very well be spilled out in the dark.

“I’m sorry, lass, I overstepped,” Killian said apologetically, dropping his gaze to the table. “Your secrets are, of course, your own to share if you wish to do so.”

Emma sighed, “I will, someday. Be patient?”

He looked back up at her, a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth, “That I can do.”

“I better take this stuff back to the galley,” she said as she stood, still somewhat rattled and needing a moment alone. “It’ll be harder to keep you hidden if I do it in the morning with everyone already watching me.”

“Why would they be watching you?” He asked as he helped her load up the tray.

“I’ve still got to deal with Marty and they didn’t get a real reason why I was gone for so long today. Grace and Roland will have talked and figured out a way to gang up on me to get answers. I’d rather not add this fuel to the fire,” she said wryly as she picked the tray up.

“They care about you,” he said quietly, his eyes skittering away before settling back on her with a flash of pain. “They wouldn’t be nearly as tenacious to get answers if they didn’t.”

“Yeah, well… it’s still annoying.”

Killian laughed. It was the reaction Emma had been hoping for. She gave him a smile before slipping out of the room and heading towards the galley.

When she returned she found Killian looking over the books Liam had lined his shelves with. None of them had interested her as a majority of them dealt with the naval laws of Balliolshire and the few novels were dry and mostly concerned with court intrigues. It had been an unexpected joy when Killian had asked her to read Peter and Wendy.

“I thought you said this was your ship, lass,” he commented without looking at her, running his finger over the spines of the books.

“It is,” she said slowly.

“These don’t seem like your cup of tea and you said you don’t have a key to the safe…” he said, turning to look at her with a raised brow.

“A ship is considered the captain’s as long as she’s sailed under their command. Not every captain is wealthy enough to own the ship they sail,” she explained, giving only a fleeting thought to how the Brooke fared back in Misthaven.

He nodded thoughtfully before saying hesitantly, “I think we should go to Nolan tomorrow.”

Emma knew she’d heard the name before but she couldn’t place it to a face. She moved towards a low cupboard that Liam had stuffed a spare hammock into.

“Who is Nolan and why should we go to him?”

“David Nolan. You met him at Sunset Storybrooke-” Emma’s hand faltered on the cupboard’s handle- “He was the sheriff before Walsh but was pushed out rather abruptly when he wouldn’t cede to Zelena’s wishes. It’s part of the reason why he’s such a grumpy ass.”

“Part?” She asked with a calm enough voice but her hands were shaking as she pulled out the hammock.

“Yeah, er, his wife died quite suddenly and he hasn’t been the same since. It’s been nearly fifteen years but-”

“Losing the one you love most changes a person,” she whispered, gripping the hammock tightly in her hands to try and steady them.

Killian was quiet, either because he hadn’t heard her or he had and was at a loss for words. She straightened and turned to face him, unsure what to expect. He was looking at her with a mixture of horror and pity and she couldn’t stand it. Not when the reason for her heartbreak was only steps away from her.

“Lass, I’m sorry-”

“Here, the hook is over there,” she said, abruptly cutting him off as she held out one end of the hammock towards him.

He grabbed it tentatively, “Emma-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she warned, moving to hang up her side. “Will Nolan talk to us or are we going to have to convince him?”

“We might have to convince him,” Killian said, the hammock moving in her hands as he hung up his side. “It’s best if we get to the shelter he works at early, before anyone else has a chance to sour his mood. Perhaps with a cup of coffee.”

“I can do that, give you time to sneak off the ship and make your way there,” she said moving towards her bunk.

Worrying for only a moment about whether or not getting comfortable for sleeping would be an issue she found she didn’t care as she sat on the edge of her bunk to tug off her boots. It was hardly late but she was exhausted and turning in was the easiest way to avoid the questions she knew Killian would be mulling over. She pulled her arms out of the sweater only far enough to undo the vest she had on underneath, letting it drop to the floor next to her boots as she pushed her hands back through the arms of the sweater. Before she could roll into the bunk Killian cleared his throat.

“Do you, uh, have an extra blanket lass?”

Emma looked up at him in surprise, “Are you still cold? I think there might be some in a trunk or there are some in the hold.”

“No. I mean yes, but not-” he huffed out a breath and grabbed the quilt that had fallen to the floor. “This is rightfully yours and you were out in the cold almost as long as I was.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said waving her hand over her sweater clad torso.

“Please, just-” he huffed out a breath, “I feel guilty enough that I’m imposing on you and forcing you to lie to your friends not to mention that we’re heading into dangerous territory by bringing what we know to Nolan. Allow me this one thing.”

“Okay,” she agreed softly, getting up and moving towards the two trunks at the foot of her bunk.

Killian crossed the cabin to her bunk, gently shaking out her quilt and placing across the top. She watched as he smoothed out the wrinkles with his hand while his wrist held the corner in place. Ducking her head before he could catch her staring she opened the first trunk and was happy to see that she had remembered correctly and there were a multitude of blankets inside. Pulling out two she was about to set them on the top of the other trunk when Killian’s hand appeared in front of her.

“Might as well pull out another for yourself, lass, once that fire burns down I suspect it turns into an igloo in here.”

She furrowed her brow at the unfamiliar word but knew what he was implying. With a look out the window she could see flurries of snow still gliding past in the glow of the lights from the docks. Handing him the blankets she shut the trunk and crossed to the wardrobe.

Of the few things Emma had brought with her from the castle in Misthaven the aged white blanket with purple ribbon trim and her name sewn into the corner was her most treasured. Like her sweater it had been knit by Granny, given to her mother before she had even been born. She’d had to leave it behind when Zelena had attacked but when she had finally returned to her castle it had still been folded at the end of her bed, dust settled into its wool but otherwise untouched. Snow had washed it herself and tearfully given it back to Emma before she had left to find the Brooke.

While the nights had been cold since their arrival in the realm they hadn’t been cold enough for her to keep the blanket out all the time. At least that’s what she had told herself when she carefully folded it and placed it gently back in the wardrobe when she had used it for comfort more than warmth. She knew perfectly well that after nearly every interaction with Killian she had wrapped herself in the soft wool while she wrote her letters to him. Pulling it out and hugging it to her chest she tried to think of it as a way to bolster herself for once more sharing quarters with him for the night.

“I’m a bit jealous you’re keeping all the snuggly knits to yourself, lass,” Killian said, with an exaggerated frown down at the blankets in his arms. “Are there mittens and legwarmers as well? A scarf or two or even dozen perhaps?”

“Be nice and I might share one,” she said with a smile, padding back to her bunk.

Killian chuckled and crossed to the hammock. They settled themselves for the night, the sound of Killian’s boots thumping to the floor the only things breaking the quiet between them. She bit her lip against a laugh when she heard him muttering curses under his breath and looked over to see as hammock swinging side to side as he tried to get comfortable. It spilled out against her will when he yelped and nearly tumbled to the floor.

“Har, bloody, har,” he grumbled, his hands holding onto either side of the hammock with his feet splayed wide at the other end. “I’m beginning to think Regina must be in her right mind if she returned to a steady bed after dealing with this damn thing.”

“If you’d stop fidgeting so much you won’t get tossed out,” she said through a giggle.

“Sound advice as I’m currently not moving at all,” he growled.

“Relax,” she ordered gently, “move with the hammock not against it.”

He frowned and grumbled to himself but slowly did as she said. She watched as he carefully untangled his legs from his blankets. Once she was certain he wasn’t going to end up face first on the floor she curled up in her bunk, turned towards him so she could keep watching. When he finally settled he looked over at her with a triumphant grin that turned to something cautious.

“That ring, it belonged to him didn’t it?”

Emma sucked in a sharp breath as her fingers tightened around the ring she had been fiddling with absentmindedly. She closed her eyes, hoping it would help her keep her composure from fracturing.

“I’m sorry. Again,” he sighed. “Can’t quite seem to keep my foot out of it tonight. No need to answer, lass, I’ll just… see you in the morning.”

The desolate resignation in his voice got her throat to unstick and her tongue to loosen.

“When I gave it to him we were still dancing around each other,” she said softly, barely loud enough to be heard but his quiet gasp proved otherwise. She opened her eyes to find him watching her and she dropped her gaze to the ring she as she began twisting it around her finger, “I was so nervous about giving it to him that I just left it in his room and kinda hoped for the best. I was actually surprised that he was wearing it the next time I saw him.

“You know, we didn’t even get along when we first met,” she chuckled, smiling down at the ring. “I thought he was an arrogant prick and I’m pretty sure he thought I was an annoying pain in the ass. It took awhile for me to warm up to him but once I did it didn’t take much longer for me to feel something more.”

“And he clearly felt the same,” he said with a hint of melancholy. She looked up at him and he gave her a shrug, “You wouldn’t be hurting this much if it had been one sided.”

“But I never told him,” she whispered. Tears gathered in her eyes, thankfully blurring his stricken features, “We barely had any time together before he… when he was… I never got to tell him.”

“I’m sure he knew. Like I’ve said: you’re quite the open book.”

Emma gave a watery laugh, dashing away the few tears that had fallen. Killian looked like he was ready to jump up to comfort her and she was glad that the hammock was giving him pause. She didn’t think she could handle him touching her at the moment, even if it was meant to ease her pain.

“How long since…”

“One year, three months and four days,” she said with a rueful smile. “I’d give you the hour and minute but I’m not exactly sure what time it is.”

“I must say, I envy you,” he sighed as he looked at the wooden beams over his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that passionately about anyone. Not even Deb.”

“Oh. I think you do,” she said quietly. “I mean, I know you and your brother had your differences but how long has it been since he died?”

“It’s seems like it’s been forever and yet no time at all,” he huffed, the action causing his hammock to rock slightly. “I very much doubt it’s anything close to what you had.”

“Maybe not, but you also shouldn’t dismiss it as if it means nothing at all. You wouldn’t be fighting so hard to make sure the right people are held accountable for his death if you didn’t care.”

“Well, for the first time I actually feel as though progress is being made and I’m- we’re one step closer to getting the truth out there,” he said with a decisive nod.

Emma frowned but made no further argument. She didn’t know if it was the cursed memories working against her or his own stubborn nature but she knew she wouldn’t get him to admit that he cared deeply for Thompson. He gave her a sideways glance before he turned carefully in his hammock so he could face her.

“Today’s been quite the day for sharing hasn’t it.”

She blew out a breath, “Yeah, it has.”

“I have one last thing to tell you and then I’ll shut the hell up. Now, I don’t mean to overstep and feel free to dump me out of this hammock if I upset you further but I just want you to know that what I said before, about waiting, I still mean it. It’s clear to me that your heart still belongs to your lost love,” Killian shook his head sadly at the protest she had been about to make, “Just listen for now, yeah? I’m no fool and while I may hope for some kind of future where you and I are… something, I won’t place any undue pressure on you to decide on anything. I just need you to know that that moment, in the cellar, if that’s the extent of what I’m meant to get from you then it was enough.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked tremulously, almost afraid of what his answer could be.

“I never-” he closed his eyes and paused. When he opened them again he found her gaze unerringly, “After the whole mess with Deb I never thought I’d let myself open up again, to be willing to let go of my disdain for romantic attachment. I fully believed that I'd live out my days alone, angry and bitter, that is until I met you.”

“Oh,” she breathed out, eyes wide. “Jones… Kier-”

“No, no-” he shook his head vehemently, “don't… just… you don't need to say anything. I just wanted to know that you've already changed my life for the better and, well, thank you.”

Killian gave her a small, heartfelt smile and Emma felt as though her heart had cracked in two. She had to fight the urge to bolt out of her bunk and tangle herself up in the hammock with him to tell him everything, his disbelief in the truth be damned. Instead she let out a shaky breath as she dug her fingernails into her palms underneath the blankets.

“I-”

“Let's just… get some sleep lass,” he said with soft understanding. He gave her another small smile before he settled onto his back and closed his eyes, “We've got quite the day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Yeah, uh, goodnight then,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Emma.”

She stayed silently curled on her side, watching him. Killian either didn't notice or didn't care because as she watched the tension seemed to drain out of him as he relaxed into the hammock. Soon he was breathing deeply and evenly, short bursts of soft snores drifting across the quiet cabin that had her biting her lip against a sob at their familiarity.

Emma was exhausted in more ways than one but she forced herself to stay awake. Once she was completely sure that Killian wouldn't wake she slipped out of her bunk. She glanced guiltily towards his hammock, telling herself that when she felt that he had even a sliver of belief in the curse she would show him the books she'd found in the cellar. When she stopped in front of the shelves where she’d hid them she couldn't help feeling as though she was keeping a terrible secret from him.

She moved the encased sextant once more, wincing as the buckle of the strap scraped against the shelf. Killian sighed in his sleep and she froze, counting to one hundred before reaching for the first book. Working quickly but carefully she pulled the rest of the books out and replaced the sextant, hugging them to her chest as she crossed back to the foot of her bunk, pausing at the table to grab a stray hairpin.

When she had been given the use of the Jewel from Liam he had told her that she would have full use of everything left on the ship. Naturally she had looked curiously through it all, from stem to stern, hold to crow's nest and discovered to her amusement that everything of a personal nature had been removed. Then, in the Captain's cabin, she had opened one of the trunks and after a moment's sifting through the contents realized that it was the belongings Killian had left behind when he had first joined her on the Brooke. She had warred with herself between slamming it shut and trying to forget about it or carefully going through it to try and hold onto any piece of Killian that she could. In the end she had closed it carefully and left it undisturbed but not forgotten at the end of her bunk.

Opening the trunk she was grateful that the hinges were well oiled and that Killian was a deep sleeper. She gave a faint smile at the gleam of the brass buttons of his uniform and let her fingers ghost over the spines of the books he had deemed worthy of bringing along on his mission to find her. With a shaky breath she placed the books from the cellar on top of his uniform and shut the lid with a quiet snap. Her guilt rose again as she bent low to listen to the tumblers as she used the hairpin to lock the trunk.

When the lock clicked into place Emma pulled herself bodily into her bunk. Burrowing back under her blankets she resumed her watch over Killian. She knew that she should probably attempt to sleep, but with the events of the day finally catching up with her, Killian being so close and yet not close enough, and the prospect of speaking to her father come morning her mind was whirring too much to even entertain closing her eyes at the moment. Instead she watched the subtle sway of the hammock when Killian made little movements in his sleep, catalogued every small sound from his lips, and unknowingly matched her breaths to his as her fingers caressed the ring at her neck and silent tears coursed down her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had a different idea of where this chapter was going to go but apparently my muse wanted some good ol' alone time for our intrepid heroes. We'll be back in it for the next chapter though.
> 
> Next: A painful visit and some harsh realities.


	18. Any Port

Emma woke to a grey dawn, her breath barely visible in the cold of her quarters.  She yawned and shivered under her blankets, drawing them up over her head to try and capture the heat.  However her hand jerked to a stop halfway up as the ring around her finger yanked on the chain around her neck.  The sudden movement brought back the memories of what had happened the night before and she looked quickly to the opposite side of the cabin only to find that she was alone.

 

Bitter disappointment coursed through her as she glared at the empty hammock, the only indication that Killian had been there at all.  She huffed and dragged the blankets over her head in order to block her view of the sagging canvas. Closing her eyes for good measure she tried to convince herself not to jump to conclusions but she couldn’t help but wonder if in the light of day Killian had regretted everything that had occurred between them over the course of the previous day.

 

After several minutes of worrying Emma shook her head, as though the action could disrupt her spiralling thoughts.  She could hear footsteps above deck and knew that Turner was performing the morning inspection. No matter why Killian had left or how she felt about it she had to act as though nothing at all had happened after she’d left the others in the galley the night before.  With great reluctance she emerged from her bedding, shivering from the cold, and shuffled over to the stove to see if there were still embers burning to start another fire with. She came to a sudden halt when she saw a piece of parchment on the table, folded, with her name written in Killian’s elegant hand across the front.

 

Quickly snatching it off the desk she unfolded it and began to read:

 

_ I hope you see this before you think the worst of me but if not I promise you I didn’t sneak out.  Well, I did but not how you might be assuming. It’s easier to sneak off a ship unseen when there’s no one awake to see you. _

 

_ Nolan usually gets to the shelter around nine or so and he opens it up at ten.  That’s probably the only time we’ll have to try and convince him to help us. If you happen to bring along a coffee and something sweet from Granny’s it’ll go a long way towards getting him on our side. _

  
  


_ Keep an eye out for Walsh or Viridans.  See you in a few hours. _

 

_ K _

 

Emma breathed out a sigh of relief and then laughed at herself for assuming the worst.  The parchment was littered with blots of ink that were then smeared across it in smudged streaks.  She figured in Killian’s cursed memories he had never written with a quill before and as she set the parchment back on the table she hoped she remembered to see what a mess he’d made of his hand with all that ink.  Feeling lighter than she had upon waking she went about getting ready for the day.

 

Making her way to the galley she tried to come up with a believable lie about what had happened after Killian had gone after her the day before.  In the short walk she came up with dozens of ideas and rejected them all, knowing Grace and Roland would see right through her. When she entered the galley she was relieved to see that only Marty was there.  The relief was short lived, however, when he saw that it was her and immediately stood from the table, roughly brushing past her as he stalked back towards the crew quarters.

 

Dropping her head back to stare at the planks of wood above her she took a deep breath to steady herself.  While she’d had to discipline her crew many times before it had never made her feel so guilty. She wondered if it was because she had lingering guilt about taking Marty away to another land without a word to his parents.  Even if he had been a stowaway she knew that Belle and Will were probably sick with worry and perhaps even blaming her for it. Or perhaps she could see herself in his teenage rebellion, the urge to prove he was more than just an eager hanger on.  Whatever it was she couldn’t help but feel anxious about Marty’s wanderings in town when there was a possibility of her returning to Misthaven without him and having to explain to the Scarlets her failure to protect their son.

 

With a heavy sigh she entered the galley and began fixing herself a morning meal.  In an impeccable sense of timing Roland stumbled sleepily through the door just as the kettle began to whistle.

 

“Is that for tea or for porridge?” He asked gruffly, dragging his hand roughly over his face and into his already disheveled hair.

 

“Both,” she said with a laugh. “At least it was enough for just me to have both.  I guess I’ll make the tea first and boil more for the porridge.”

 

“The food in this land may be lacking but you can’t deny how wonderful it is to have everything ready to eat within minutes,” he said through a yawn, dropping his head to the arms he had crossed on the table, watching her. “One of few things I remember about my mother was how when she’d tuck me in at night she smelled of cinnamon or flour from preparing for the next morning’s meal.  I think she’d be a bit offended at how quickly everything can be made.”

 

“Granny would be too, if she remembered who she was,” Emma said with a sad smile as she handed Roland his tea. “She used to make me help her in the galley when she thought I was getting too homesick.  Then, when she had her tavern, working in her kitchen was a way to make me feel as if I had a home even as I wondered if I’d ever get my true one back.”

 

“I don’t want to upset you but you think you can move this curse breaking thing along?  I’d really like to stop getting so melancholy this early in the morning, it tends to bring down the day.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes at his exaggerated pout, glad that he had lightened their heavy conversation.  While she waited for the kettle to boil once more she could barely keep herself from telling him everything that had happened with Killian over the past day and night.  The only things that held her tongue were Killian’s wish to remain hidden and her fierce desire to have him to herself, if only for a few hours longer.

 

Turner and Grace joined them before long.  Emma gave up on the idea of a quick meal and used the boiling water to make more tea as she began to fry up some rashers with eggs instead.  She knew it was early enough in the morning that the delay wouldn’t keep her from being late to meet up with Killian but she also knew that she’d have to make her excuses quickly once the meal was over.

 

They ate their meal without much talking between them.  Emma was preoccupied with what to tell the others to allow her to leave without question and she assumed the others were merely content with being quiet.

 

“So are we drawing straws or are you going to make some kind of rotating schedule?” Roland asked as he pushed his empty plate away.

 

Emma frowned at him, a forkful of eggs halfway to her lips, “For what?”

 

“Watching after the kid.  I mean, Daniel and I have been saddled with it the past couple of weeks-”

 

“Rol,” Turner said warningly.

 

“It feels like you’re punishing us as well,” Roland plowed on as Turner winced and Grace sighed. “I know he needs to learn the discipline and all that but can’t you cut us some slack?”

 

Her eggs slipped offer her fork in her surprise.  She hadn’t expected an outburst from Roland, at least not about watching over Marty.  In a flash of inspiration she realized he had unwittingly given her exactly what she needed to meet up with Killian unimpeded.

 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” she said contritely, dropping her eyes to her plate so they wouldn’t suspect she was anything but, “I thought that because you already knew Marty so well it would be better for the both of you if you were the one to look after him.  It was unfair of me to just dump it on you like that and doubly so for you Turner.”

 

Turner gaped at her before quickly clearing his throat, “I’m fully aware that they were your orders as captain and not meant as some kind of punishment.  I tried to explain that to him-”

 

“But it still wasn’t right for me to expect you to keep with it all this time,” she said with a shake of her head.  She turned to Grace, “Will you stay here with him? Just until midday? I’ll come back and take over for the rest of the day.”

 

“I’m happy to stay here all day,” Grace said with an understanding smile.

 

“No,” Emma said quickly.  Too quickly for the looks the others gave her.  She shrugged, “I don’t want to make you do it forever instead and you’ll miss seeing your children on their way home.  I’ll need to talk to him anyway, once he’s willing to listen.”

 

“That might take more than just a few hours,” Roland murmured under his breath.

 

Emma hummed in agreement.  Grace was looking at her searchingly and she kept her face as impassive as she could.  She needed the others off the ship so Killian could board without being seen, preferably before the sun set and the temperature dropped.  Finally Grace seemed to find nothing amiss and gave her a nod of acquiescence.

 

“Good,” she said with a smile before hurriedly finishing off the last few bites of her meal and standing from the table. “Well, I’ll be back later.”

 

“Off to find Killian then?” Roland asked casually.

 

Her breath hitched, “What- uh, what makes you think that?”

 

“Please, you’re not fooling us,” he huffed. “He’s on the run from Zelena and her men and something obviously happened between you two after that fight in the diner.  It’d probably take a whole barrel of squid ink to keep you from trying to find him and make sure he’s okay. You don’t have to put on a show for us.”

 

“You’re right,” she said, sighing in relief that their assumptions were slightly off. “I just need to know that he’s not hurt in some way.”

 

“Go,” Grace said gently. “Don’t even think about coming back until you’ve found him.”

 

“But your children-”

 

“They’ll still be there tomorrow and the day after and the day after until you break the curse-” Grace flushed and dropped her eyes to the table. “If you decide to break the curse that is.”

 

Emma was torn. She wanted to tell Grace and Turner that she intended to break it to ease their minds but she was also holding off until she was certain what lay in store for them once the Dark One became aware of who he was.  It was a fine line to walk and with the added strain of hiding Killian she was nearly prepared to spill all her secrets. Only the light pressure of Roland’s foot on hers kept her from blurting out her intentions.

 

“I’ll check to see if Pinocchio has anything new for us today,” she assured her, despite knowing there wouldn’t be anything.

 

“And what of Roland and I?” Turner asked with an air of awaiting orders.

 

“You’ve earned an extended shore leave, I think.  With Grace here with Marty and nothing we really need to worry about in town I think you two should enjoy some time alone-” she gave them a sly smile, “Don’t worry about being back any time soon.”

 

She was rewarded with a deep blush from both of them and a light kick to her shin from Roland.

 

Less than a half an hour later Emma was entering Granny’s Diner, brushing a few fat flakes of snow from her shoulders.  According to the clocktower she had another quarter hour before she was due to meet Killian to talk to her father. As much as she was apprehensive it was tempered by the prospect of properly speaking to David for the first time since they’d been forced apart.  Even with his memories stolen by the curse she couldn’t help feeling giddy anticipation at seeing him.

 

It was crowded in the diner, filled with the early morning patrons securing their meal before their day’s work.  She sidled up to the counter and caught Charlotte’s eye as the girl passed by her with the pot of coffee.

 

“Want a cup to go?” Charlotte asked as she topped off Little John’s mug to her right.

 

“Actually can I get three?” Emma requested with an offhandedness, hoping to not draw suspicion. “And maybe a few pastries to go with them?”

 

“Sure!” Charlotte chirped.  She placed the pot in front of her and reached below the counter, producing three white paper cups and caps for them, “We still have some donuts left if you’d like those.”

 

“Sounds good,” Emma agreed even though she had no idea what she would be getting.

 

“Cool.  Are you taking it to the library for your friend and August?  You’ve been going there almost every day,” Charlotte chattered as she filled the cups. “I only go there when I have a paper that needs actual books for resources.  I mean why we can’t use the internet for the whole thing? You can just Google it and it’s all there.”

 

“Uh-”

 

“I mean you probably didn’t even have internet at all when you were in high school, which ew gross, but you get what I’m saying right?” Charlotte secured the caps on the cups and moved down to a small serving pedestal with sugared pastries under a glass dome. “You want three of these too?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

Emma felt a prickle at the back of her neck.  She turned a bit towards Charlotte, acting as though she was watching her place the pastries in a paper sack, she noticed that several gazes were flickering between her and the meals before them while a few were openly staring, Red being one of them.  Turning back she noted that Little John quickly turned back to the daily notices he had spread open next to his plate.

 

It was clear to her that word had spread overnight through the town.  She was unsure if it was about her fight with Killian in the diner the day before, Killian’s escape from Walsh’s custody, or both.  Either way the town seemed to be watching her closely, ready to get word back to the right people about any suspicious actions on her part.

 

“August is helping Grace and I figure out if it’s worth staying here, offering tours and such on the ship,” Emma said casually, giving Charlotte an easy smile when she handed over the sack. “We did so well on Founder’s Day we thought it might finally be worth setting anchor, so to speak.”

 

“Oh, awesome!” Charlotte beamed. “We were talking about it at school for, like, a week.  I mean, probably because it was something new but it was fun too!”

 

“I’ll let the others know,” Emma said with a smile. “How much do I owe you?”

 

After paying and loudly assuring Charlotte that she would be back for lunch she hurriedly left the diner.  With a sigh she made her way to the library. She wasn’t sure if someone was watching her or not but she didn’t want to risk being discovered.  It helped that she had realized she didn’t know where in town she was supposed to be meeting Killian and stopping to see Pinocchio would help her out in more ways than one.

 

She had barely stepped through the door when Pinocchio came limping out from behind his desk.

 

“Eva!  Is everything alright?  I heard some rumors and you never came back yesterday and Jones has gone missing but he usually hides out here or at my place but I never saw him-”

 

“He’s fine,” she said quickly interrupting him.  Warmth bloomed in her cheeks at the look of surprise he gave her and she went on, “I don’t have time to explain right now but everything is, um, fine.”

 

“Oh-” his lips curled into a smile. “He took my advice then.  Good.”

 

“Your advice?” She asked, unable to help herself.

 

“I told him he was being an ass and he should stop moping and talk to you.  Didn’t think it would end with a warrant out for his arrest but he’s always had a flair for the dramatic.”

 

“So the sheriff is looking for him?” She asked worriedly.

 

“Well, Baum is kinda always looking for a reason to arrest him but, yeah, it’s legit this time,” he sighed.

 

“Okay, then I need your help.”

 

“Sure,” he said with a nod, “I’ve been helping that idiot for a long time.  Lemme guess, if someone comes looking you need me to say you’ve been here all morning but left right before they got here?”

 

“I- yes… how?”

 

“I’ve been through something like this with Jones a few times now,” he shrugged, nonplussed. “I take it you’re about to go meet him somewhere, considering you’ve got those extra coffees.”

 

“I am.  Can you tell me where the animal shelter is?”

 

“He’s going to Nolan?” He asked in surprise, his eyes wide. “He must finally have something worthwhile.”

 

“I think so.  I hope so,” she realized that she did, even if it was all a fabrication. “So, the shelter?”

 

“Right, uh, take the back exit and follow the alley to the left.  Take a right when you get to the street and it’s about two blocks east.  Can’t miss it.”

 

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, giving him a smile.

 

“Er, Eva?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

She watched fascinated as he blushed, “Do you think Grace will stop by today?”

 

“I’m not sure,” she answered, amused. “She has some duties on the ship but she might be in town later this afternoon.”

 

“Oh, okay.  Yeah,” he nodded, speaking half to himself.

 

“I should go,” she said edging her way towards the interior of the library.

 

“What?” He looked at her in confusion which quickly gave away to understanding, “Yeah, go.  Go.”

 

Emma gave him another smile that he reciprocated.  She quickly made her way through the library and found the door leading to the alley with ease due to the lighted signs showing the way.  Carefully making sure no one was at either end she slipped out the door, turning left and headed toward the roadway.

 

By the time she made it to the shelter she had passed by enough people to make her nervous.  The thick paper serving tray Charlotte had given her felt awkward in her hands and large spots of oil had begun to seep through the sack.  She could only hope that those who had seen her either assumed she was meeting members of her crew somewhere or had no desire to tell anyone that they had seen her.

 

The shelter was a plain, squat stone building, the yelps and barks of dogs audible from the walkway.  She still wondered at the purpose of it even after Regina had explained what it was David did in town one night on the Jewel.  In their realm the stray animals had run semi-wild but the cats had taken care of vermin and the dogs had somehow tended to keep more vicious predators at bay.  In the castle it hadn’t been much different, with cats roaming freely through the grounds and only a few dogs, one of which was her father’s old and faithful companion Wilby whom had mercifully died the summer before Zelena had struck.

 

“Quite the depressing sight, isn’t it?”

 

She looked to the side of the building and saw Killian standing in the shadows, smirking at her.

 

“It seems like a prison for animals,” she said sadly, walking across the small manicured grass toward him.

 

“Yes, well, Storybrooke is small enough that it’s never truly overrun but that doesn’t keep the poor beasts from ending up in there,” he said as he grabbed the sack of pastries out of her hand.  He balanced the bottom of it on his left forearm and opened it to peer in, “Hmm, this should do nicely. Shall we?”

 

Emma could only nod as her stomach dropped.  She kept half a pace behind Killian as he led her towards the front of the shelter.  Her nervousness doubled when he opened the door for her and she could hear David talking to someone inside.

 

“-no I won’t waive your adoption fees because you’ve donated in the past.  That’s not how it works. Even if you’d donated the Hope Diamond you’d still have to pay the fee.  Yeah? Well enjoy paying an arm and a leg for a dog that’s probably worse than the ones I have here.”

 

“So much for catching him before his mood soured,” Killian muttered under his breath as he ushered her inside.

 

David was standing behind a tall counter, watching them enter with a frown, “We don’t open for another hour.”

 

“Of that I’m well aware but we’re not here to take a gander at your charges-” Killian held up the pastries, “We bring donuts!”

 

“And trouble, no doubt,” David sniffed, eyeing the sack suspiciously.  He then trained his gaze on her, “Coffee too? Dammit, Jones, what have you done now?”

 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Killian said with a somewhat bewildered look.

 

“You did this every time your poor excuse for a brother had to spend a night in a cell-” David was still looking at her, his exasperation clear. “You really shouldn’t be tangling yourself up with him, in the sheets or out of them.”

 

“Excuse me?” She gasped, her indignation and the shock of hearing her father speaking to her in that way stopping her from saying anything further.

 

Killian gave her an apologetic glance before striding up to the counter, “Don’t be an ass Nolan.  I- we need your help.”

 

“With what?  I’m not joining your fruitless crusade against Viridans,” David scoffed. “I may hate the woman but I’m not about to get on her bad side either.”

 

“Thanks to Eva here it’s not fruitless any longer,” Killian said shortly, dropping the sack of pastries unceremoniously on the counter.  He dug through a satchel she hadn’t noticed at his side and pulled out the sheaf of papers she had taken from the cellar, “We can finally take Viridans down and while we may be able to do it on our own it would be far easier with your assistance.  Please, Nolan.”

 

David scowled as he glared at the papers in Killian’s hand.  Without a word he strode from behind the counter and stalked towards her.  She stood her ground, not sure what his intentions were and was caught off guard when he stepped around her around her and locked the door. He grabbed one of the coffees from the serving tray as he walked back towards Killian.

 

“There better be an old fashioned in there, Jones.”

 

“I made sure of it,” Killian said with a pleased grin, sending a wink her way.

 

Emma trailed behind the two of them as David led the way deeper into the shelter.  They walked down a hallway with doors on either side leading off to rooms she could only catch a glimpse of as they passed.  The sounds of the animals held captive increased as they neared and her steps faltered when she heard the pitiful baying of a hound that somehow seemed to echo her own misery at being there.  Looking back towards the door the howling was coming from she felt that the dog would be more receptive of her company than her father. She jumped slightly when Killian gently placed his hand on her lower back.

 

“Come along, lass,” he said quietly but not unkindly.

 

“Maybe I should just let you two figure it out,” she said with a shrug, trying to shake off the hurt she still felt at David’s judgemental words as she turned back to face him. “He clearly has a low opinion of me already.”

 

Killian frowned and ducked down slightly to capture her gaze, “As I’ve said: he’s an ass.  I promise he won’t make a comment like that again and if he does we leave. I wasn’t lying when I said we can do this without him.”

 

His eyes were flitting between hers, the blue of them darkened with concern even in the harsh, unnatural light of the hallway.  She took an unsteady breath and let it back out slowly. With a small, encouraging nod that she mirrored he smiled and keeping his hand at her back, led her towards the door David had disappeared through.

 

It was a room similar and yet different from the one she had been in when she had been questioned by Walsh.  There was a desk with one chair behind it and two before it, several tall metal containers with drawer handles, and a coat rack in the corner but those were the only things resembling Walsh’s room.  Hung haphazardly across all the walls were alarmingly lifelike portraits of dogs, cats, and to her puzzlement rabbits and what appeared to be weasels as well. In the corner next to the door was a large pillow that had several brightly colored balls and other oddly shaped objects strewn across it.  The corner on the other side held a tall, rug and rope covered structure with small platforms and a cylinder tube with a hole cut out the side.

 

Killian nudged her forward and she moved to the chair on the right.  Before sitting she took one of the coffees off the tray and handed it to him.  He hummed his thanks as he pulled out her chair slightly with his left arm, waiting to sit until she had settled with the last cup of coffee in her hand.  David was already sitting behind the desk, watching them impassively as he sipped at his own coffee.

 

Despite having seen David mere weeks before and through a mirror over a year previous Emma couldn’t help but surreptitiously stare at him.  When she had come across him at the manor where Granny was she had been too shocked at his unexpected appearance and his gruff demeanor to fully take him in.  As he dug through the sack of pastries Killian had handed him she tried to reconcile her memories of her father with the man before her.

 

His hair was more grey than the blonde she remembered from her childhood. He had wrinkles in his forehead and around his mouth, lines of worry and misery etched into his skin, from his captivity under Zelena or his cursed life she didn’t know.  In the brief moment she locked eyes with him as he pushed over the pastry sack she noted that his once bright blue gaze was dull with weariness.

 

“Here you go, lass,” Killian said, breaking her observations as he held out a somewhat large, brown, sugar glazed pastry half wrapped in a napkin towards her. “I’d give you the maple bar but alas it’s covered in bacon and I’d hate for you to have to eat such a travesty.”

 

She rolled her eyes at the mocking tone of his voice and took the pastry from him, “My hero.”

 

“If you two are done flirting I’d like to know why you so desperately need my help,” David intoned drolly.

 

Emma felt warmth in her cheeks, noticing that Killian’s ears were turning pink as well.  Taking a bite of the pastry to cover her embarrassment she was pleasantly surprised by the cinnamon and sugary dough that practically melted in her mouth.  She was about to ask what it was called when she caught sight of a small portrait on David’s desk and nearly choked. It was a likeness of her mother, but from when she was much younger, with practically all her hair cut off and in the clothes of the land without magic.  She swallowed her bite of pastry with difficulty and struggled to focus on what Killian was saying to David.

 

“-know it’s not quite legal but that’s where we hoped you could help us.”

 

“Let me get this straight-” David sighed, sitting back in his chair and frowning at them, “You trespassed on private property-”

 

“There are no fences out there distinguishing property lines from open land.”

 

“Broke into a locked cellar-”

 

“From what I’ve heard it may never have been unlocked in the first place.”

 

“And stole classified documents to what?  Rub Viridans’ nose in it? Even if you hadn’t done half that shit you don’t have a leg to stand on case wise,” David scoffed. “I don’t know why you thought any of this was a good idea.”

 

“It was my idea,” Emma said, the words sticking in her throat.  She felt another rush of guilt at what she’d done but kept her gaze resolutely up, “The farmhouse, the papers, all of it.  I just wanted to help.”

 

“You’ve only helped Jones here get arrested and now he’s on the run.  Proud of yourself for that are you?” David said with a sneer.

 

“Now see here, Nolan,” Killian growled.

 

“No, he’s right,” Emma said placatingly, setting her coffee and pastry down on the desk.  She looked squarely at David, “I’m not proud of what’s happened but I am glad that I was able to finally get him the answers he’s been looking for for years.  Who else in this miserable town can say that much? Who else cares? It’s obvious you don’t and coming here was a mistake. I’m only sorry we wasted our time.”

 

Standing, she fully intended to leave without saying another word.  She didn’t know what had come over her. Her selfish desire to help Killian had overcome her decision to find a way to break the curse for everyone.  The books waiting for her back on the Jewel were far more important than stretching out her time spent with a cursed Killian and her equally cursed, miserly father.

 

“Hmph, let’s see what you brought then.”

 

Emma gaped at David’s outstretched hand.  She glanced at Killian and saw her surprise mirrored back at her.

 

“Er, what?” She asked him dumbly.

 

David smirked at her, “The file.  I’d hate to have wasted your time.”

 

She kept watching him as Killian handed over the papers and he put on a pair of black framed spectacles.  It wasn’t until he looked up at her with a raised brow and Killian tugged at her hand that she sank back into her chair.  After another minute or so she picked her pastry back up and began to hesitantly nibble on it. When she noticed that Killian was leaning back in his chair with his legs stretched out in front of him she relaxed marginally but watched for any sign of dismissal from her father.

 

It was nearly a quarter of an hour before he flipped over the last page and peered at them over his spectacles.  She felt Killian tense next to her but she recognized the look on David’s face. He’d had the same look whenever he’d found a way to sneak her out of her lessons in comportment and onto the sparring field instead.  For the first time since she’d woken up that morning she felt some of her worries lift from her shoulders.

 

“You can’t use these,” David said bluntly, removing his spectacles and tossing them on the desk.

 

“So you've bloody said,” Killian growled, his frustration evident.

 

“But there is something we can use,” Emma guessed, a thrill shooting through her when David looked at her appraisingly.

 

“The documents you have here, and I suspect whatever else was in that cellar, are all copies,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, “When I was sheriff I happened to get familiar with the little splotch of toner the copier in the mayor’s office left on the bottom corner of the papers.  Helped me figure out what was getting passed around to who and from where they got it. It’s the reason the Mirror isn’t around anymore.”

 

“I thought they went bankrupt,” Killian said skeptically.

 

“Eventually they did,” David said with a smug smile. “I discovered that Sydney had been breaking into the mayor’s office and copying confidential documents for his stories.  Once that came out he lost almost all his advertisers and landed himself firmly on Viridans’ bad side. I don’t need to tell you how detrimental that can be.”

 

“How did you end up on her bad side then?” Emma blurted out, too curious as to why David had been ousted as sheriff and unthinking of her words.

 

David’s smile twisted into a scowl as his eyes flashed, “I started an investigation that she didn’t approve of.  When I wouldn’t drop it she had me declared mentally unfit for the job. Within a week I was out and Walsh was in.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, chastised, “I didn’t mean-”

 

“It’s fine,” he said gruffly.  He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed, “Actually, it leads in to how I can help you.  The case I was building was one of embezzlement and fraud. I started looking into it because funds meant for the sheriff’s office were much smaller than they should have been or not there at all.  When it started leading me to the mayor’s office that’s when Viridans stepped in.

 

“Luckily for me Walsh hadn’t had any kind of training or experience.  I was able to delete all the files from the investigation from the computers and slip the hard copies in with my personal effects when I packed up my desk.  No one was the wiser.”

 

“You’ve been sitting on it for all these years?” Killian asked, bewildered.  When Emma looked at him he was frowning, “You’ve kept looking into it haven’t you?”

 

“Call it my white whale,” David said with a shrug. “It’s one of the reasons I’m still working in a government funded facility.  That and I have a soft spot for animals.”

 

“It’s the only thing you have a soft spot for,” Killian grumbled.  He leaned forward, “So how is it you’re going to help us?”

 

“By bringing everything I have to the attention of the authorities,” David said triumphantly.

 

“Um, isn’t that what you were trying not to do?” Emma asked confused.

 

“Yes, but Ren Archer owes me a favor,” David said with a smirk. “I have enough evidence to secure a warrant. With Ren’s help he’ll make sure Walsh doesn’t find out and that the scope of the warrant covers any paperwork Viridans might be hiding in that office of hers.  We’ll both get what we want, Jones, if everything goes right.”

 

“And if it doesn’t?” Killian asked with seeming reluctance.

 

David shrugged, “Well, it’s not like we have a lot left to lose.”

 

They sat in silence as David’s words sunk in.  Emma once more felt torn between continuing to help Killian seek his vengeance and going off on her own to try and find a way to break the curse without also endangering everyone she was trying to save.  Not for the first time she wished that the mantle of Savior had fallen onto someone else’s shoulders.

 

A shrill ringing filled the room, causing Emma to jump in her seat.  Killian swore under his breath and scrambled to reach into his pocket.

 

“A flip phone?” David asked sardonically as Killian pulled out a small, dark object that was the source of the ringing.

 

“It’s a burner,” Killian murmured distractedly, his brows drawing together.  He looked up at them with a frown, “I need to take this.”

 

Without another word he stood and left the room.  Emma had turned to watch him leave, wanting to call him back or even go with him.  She wasn’t prepared to be alone with her father.

 

David gruffly cleared his throat, “Do you like dogs?”

 

She looked back at him surprised.  He was looking at her carefully, earnestly, and she gave him a small smile.

 

“I do.  My father always had one at his side.”

 

“You can always judge a person’s character by how they get along with animals,” he said with a nod.  Then he hitched his thumb off to one side, “Would you like to see them?”

 

“The dogs?” She asked surprised.  When he nodded again she narrowed her eyes at him, “Are you trying to judge my character?”

 

“No,” he said with a laugh. “Just trying to keep things from getting too awkward.”

 

“Oh,” she breathed, understanding but unable to help the lance of pain that went through her, “Then I’d really like to see the dogs.”

 

They stood and made their way back down the hallway.  Emma stopped in front of the door she had paused at before, once again listening to the dogs within.  David gave her a half smile as he opened the door for her.

 

Instead of opening to another room, as she had expected, she found herself looking out into a small courtyard.  There was a row of stalls, much like in a stable but with walls taller than her made of stone instead of wood. Each stall had metal fencing at their front and from her vantage point in the doorway she could see a few snouts poking out to investigate.  The noises of the dogs rose in pitch and excitement as she walked down the row.

 

For all the barking there were only half a dozen dogs.  She stopped in front of a stall at the end that held a large, white and grey, shaggy haired dog and kneeled down so she get a better look at it through the fencing.

 

“I call him Max,” David said with a chuckle.  She looked up at him and saw that he seemed to be waiting for some kind of acknowledgement, “You know, from The Little Mermaid?”

 

“Oh, is that a book?”

 

She wondered if it was a book like the one about Killian but about Princess Ariel instead.  When David didn’t answer her right away she looked back up at him. His brow was furrowed and he frowned as he shook his head.

 

“The cartoon?  You’ve never seen The Little Mermaid?”

 

“No,” she said shortly, turning back to the dog to hide her embarrassment.  She pushed her fingers through the fence and smiled as he snuffled at them before licking them, “I don’t know why people think locking animals up like criminals is a good thing.  They’re not hurting anyone.”

 

“You remind me of her,” David sighed sadly.

 

Looking up at him she was taken aback to see that tears had filled his eyes.  She stood slowly and he gruffly cleared his throat as he dashed them away.

 

“Your wife?” She asked hesitantly, her heart in her throat.

 

“She used to volunteer here, on top of her job at the school.  She hated having to leave the animals here at the end of the day-” he gave a watery chuckle. “We fostered more dogs than our tiny loft could fit but she always wanted to bring home more.  We couldn’t have kids so she said it was the next best thing.”

 

Emma felt a bolt of pain slice through her and tremulously asked, “What was her name?”

 

“Mary Margaret,” David gave a smile that seemed almost involuntary, as though merely saying out loud brought him happiness. “We would have been married thirty years last spring.  We only made it sixteen.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, fighting back her own tears at the heartache in his voice.  She hesitantly placed her hand on his arm, “You’re here more for her memory than to keep tabs on the town aren’t you?”

 

“I needed somewhere to be close to her that wouldn’t drown me in memories,” he murmured quietly.  He cleared his throat again and tilted his head at the stall, “You want to meet him?”

 

Emma stepped back, knowing he was done talking about what he believed were his memories of Snow.  She fought against the catch in her throat, nodding absently as he unlocked the gate. The dog barrelled out of the stall and danced around her in excited hops, barking all the while.  Unable to stop her laughter she tried to calm him down.

 

“You’re good for him, you know,” David said once the volley of barks quieted.

 

“He just needed to be let out of that cage,” she said with light reproach, digging her fingers into the depths of the dog’s fur as she crouched beside him.

 

“I’m not talking about Max.”

 

Looking up at him she found him looking at her with mild reproach.  It was a look he’d given her every time she’d tried to get away with something, even something as trivial as sneaking an extra biscuit from the tea service.

 

“I’ve arrested the Jones brothers more times than I care to count and Kieran only got worse after Thomas died.  I have never seen him act the way he did with you earlier. Whatever it is you’re doing don’t stop, you just might be saving his life.”

 

“I don’t intend to,” she said solemnly, reaffirming the promise she’d made to herself countless times before.

 

“Don’t intend to what, lass?”

 

Her gaze whipped to the door and saw Killian standing there giving her a tense smile.  She tilted her head in question but he shook it marginally, clearly not wanting to say anything in front of David.  His smile widened as he noticed Max at her side.

 

“Adopt a hound?  Although, with your ship he’d be a fitting companion.  He looks like the one from The Little Mermaid.”

 

“See, even he’s seen it,” David grumbled.

 

Emma stood as Max sat at her side.  She hadn’t given a thought to actually taking the dog with her and she suddenly wished she could.  Pushing the thought away for another time she gave Max a final pat on his head.

 

“I can barely keep one of my crew from wandering all over town,” she huffed. “I don’t think I’d do much better with a dog.”

 

“If you change your mind just let me know,” David said as he led Max back into his stall. “I’ll waive the adoption fee for you.”

 

Emma was about to thank him when she noticed that Killian’s jaw had dropped.  She shot him a quizzical look and he blinked rapidly before shaking his head with clear disbelief.

 

“As much as your generosity today astounds me when should we expect you to take what you have to Archer?”

 

David gave Killian an unamused look that had Emma biting back a laugh.  Killian noticed her struggle and gave her a wink.

 

“Is this afternoon too late for you?” David huffed.

 

“Wait, truly?  You’ll do it today?” Killian asked, surprised.

 

“I’ve just been waiting for the right time to do it,” David said with a shrug but Emma could see the tension in his shoulders. “Ren should be able to get a warrant easily enough, we both know a judge who has no love for Viridans.  Since she’s busy hunting you down he should be able to get in and search her office before she knows what’s going on. I’ll just need one thing from you.”

 

“What?” Killian asked with narrowed eyes.

 

“Just show up somewhere public around three or so and keep Walsh and Viridans busy.  If either of them get wind of what we’re trying to do you can kiss the documents we’re after goodbye.”

 

“You want him to be bait?” Emma asked incredulously.

 

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve done, lass,” Killian said flippantly.  He smiled deviously at David, “I’ll make sure Leroy is around first. Man can’t resist a good piece of gossip.”

 

“Perfect and don’t get caught or if you do don’t get caught too early,” David warned sternly. “You can bet they won’t let you escape a second time.”

 

“Aye, aye Captain!” Killian said mockingly, clicking his heels together and offering a limp wristed salute.

 

“There’s the ass I know,” David said under his breath, barely loud enough for Emma to hear.

 

“We should go,” she said quickly, before Killian could annoy her father further.

 

“That we should, seeing as how you’ll be deprived of my company for a few hours this afternoon,” Killian said with a grin and a lift of his eyebrows.

 

“Jesus, I’ve seen him flirt before but this is ridiculous,” David muttered.  He turned to her, “If he does anything to piss you off I have a cat here that scratches the living hell out of anyone that goes near it.”

 

Emma blinked at him, taken aback, “Oh, uh…”

 

“Just saying,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

 

Amused at his offer she shook her head at him with a barely suppressed grin.  She’d had practically no suitors before Zelena had attacked but David had hated the idea from the moment she had begun trailing after the handsome guards at the age of twelve.  While she knew with their true memories he would approve of Killian far more than he currently did she wondered how much blustering he would do before giving it.

 

She made her way out of the courtyard, rolling her eyes at Killian as she passed him.  He merely widened his grin and fell into step behind her. After David closed the door behind them he led them down the hallway, past the room they had been talking in and to a door marked ‘emergency exit’.

 

“We don’t need anyone seeing that you’ve been here,” David explained, as he inserted a key into a lock.  Opening the door he looked out before turning back to them and pointing at Killian, “Don’t forget, three o’clock.”

 

“Shall we synchronize our watches?” Killian asked cheerily.

 

David ignored him and turned to her, “Don’t let yourself get caught instead of him.  We don’t need Jones here trying to attempt a rescue.”

 

“It would be dashing at least,” Killian interjected, sounding affronted.

 

“I won’t,” she promised.

 

“Come back here after nine,” David continued. “We’ll know if we have what we need by then.”

 

“And if we don’t?” She asked cautiously.

 

“We’ll deal with that if it comes to it,” David said grimly.

 

“It won’t,” Killian said confidently.  He stepped out the door and turned to David, his countenance suddenly serious, “I… thank you, Nolan.  You have no reason to help and yet you are. Even if it doesn’t pan out I’ll be forever in your debt.”

 

“Jones-” David said with a touch of warning.

 

“Right,” Killian said with a shake of his head.  He smiled widely, “Three o’clock for the show and nine for the recap.  Let’s take our leave, lass.”

 

He offered her his arm and David huffed out an annoyed sigh.  Finally letting herself laugh at the absurdity of it all she merely squeezed her father’s arm in thanks and walked straight past Killian.  She heard his quick steps to catch up and the snick of the door closing behind them, keeping her smile in place as they cautiously approached the corner of the building.

 

“Before I have to start sneaking around town again I’ve some bad news,” Killian said in a low voice.

 

Emma looked at him and saw worry creasing his brow.

 

“Does it have to do with why you left earlier?”

 

“I’m afraid so,” Killian said with a scowl. “It was Booth that called and it seems Walsh stopped by the library, looking for you.  Looks as though they’ve somehow connected you to the farmhouse incident.”

 

“Incident,” Emma scoffed. “Well, at least we know where to go now.”

 

“What?” Killian asked bewildered, “Where’s that?”

 

“The library of course.  If Walsh has already been there then we won’t have to worry he’ll be back anytime soon.”

 

Killian gaped at her, “Good lord, lass, I’m starting to think you really are a pirate.  First the clothes and the ship, then the speed with which you took on that cellar lock, and now knowing how to evade the law?  I’m curious as to what else you’ve got up your sleeve.”

 

“All sorts of tricks, Jones,” she said, giving him a wink.  She peered around the corner of the building and saw no one, “Come on, the coast is clear for now.”

 

Together they slinked their way back towards the library.  Emma followed Killian around the back of buildings and through small walkways that smelled of refuse and rot.  Finally they approached the door she had exited only a few hours before, watching with amusement as Killian pulled out a key to unlock it.

 

“Booth gave me it after the fourth time I set off the alarms,” Killian said with a shrug.

 

“I’m surprised he even waited that long,” she said with a chuckle.

 

“Yes, well, he’s also changed the locks on me twice.”

 

Emma laughed as he pulled open the door but it was cut off when she caught sight of someone standing on the other side.  She barely noticed Killian cursing at her side, tugging at her wrist. As Zelena stepped forward, a frown on her face and troubled eyes, she suddenly felt as though she couldn’t breathe.

 

“We have a problem.”

 

“What?” She asked, tearing her arm out of Killian’s grasp.

 

“The boy you brought with you went and got himself caught,” Zelena huffed, annoyed, but there was an undercurrent of something that Emma couldn’t quite place.

 

“Marty?  Caught by who?  Why would you even care about him in the first place?”

 

“Don’t listen to her, lass, she’s just trying to trick you into a bloody jail cell,” Killian warned

 

“Shut up, Hook,” Zelena snapped.  She turned back, her features pinching, “He was getting something for me from Gold’s shop.  He has him.”

 

Emma realized what it was in her voice she hadn’t been able to discern.  Something she’d never thought she’d hear coloring Zelena’s words. It was fear.

 

“Who?” Emma asked, panic clawing its way up her throat, “Who has him?”

 

“The Dark One,” Zelena whispered. “He’s awake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bum bum buuuuuuuum. That's right, I did that. Also, I couldn't resist putting a lovable dog in there just because.
> 
> Next: Dealing with that pesky, heartless Dark One.


	19. The Storm

“He’s awake.”

 

Emma could barely breathe.  The two words echoed discordantly in her head.  She tried to make sense of them, at least a sense other than what they truly meant.  If she could just breathe she knew she could make the words understandable.

 

“What do you mean?” She gasped, fighting for breath.

 

“Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?” Zelena growled. “The Dark One, the demon without a heart, the imp who will be ripping every one of our hearts out of our chests knows exactly who he is and what’s been done to him.  He has that poor excuse for a thief’s son and if he hasn’t killed him yet it’s because he’s planning to do it later. Do you understand now?”

 

“How?”

 

“Understand what?  Sounds to me like you’re talking in bloody tongues.”

 

Emma gave an involuntary laugh that sounded slightly hysterical.  She looked back at Killian and found that he was shaking with tension.  His eyes flickered to her briefly but fixed malevolently back on Zelena in a heartbeat.  For the first time she wished that he wasn’t by her side.

 

“Can’t you shut him up?”

 

“Not bloody likely.”

 

Ignoring them both she dazedly entered the library.  She could see Pinocchio hovering at the end of one of the rows of books and walked towards him.  He tried to murmur an apology but she kept walking, tuning out the raised voices behind her. Once she reached the table her and Grace had been using for their research she sank into one of the chairs and stared blankly at its surface.

 

She had never given much thought to what it meant to be the Savior.  It had merely been a title, an expectation, thrust upon her when she desperately wanted nothing more than to reunite with her parents and take back their kingdom.  When Killian and Misthaven had been taken by Zelena’s curse it was just another burden set upon her shoulders. The discovery that an unpredictable and highly dangerous Dark One was only held in check by the curse was a faraway thought, something she believed she’d have time to prepare for.  It seemed, however, that her time was up.

 

Regret coursed through her as she thought of all the times Roland had tried to bring up the prophecy made about her.  She only knew what she’d had no choice but to hear that she was the one destined to break the curse when she turned twenty-eight.  Roland had always implied that there was more to it but she had refused to acknowledge it, arguing with herself that if she was unaware then whatever it was wouldn’t come to pass.

 

Selfishly she wished she had broken the curse sooner.  Her father had heard the full prophecy himself, along with her mother.  David would have been able to tell her what to expect, what to prepare for.  He also would have been by her side, sword at the ready, and so would Killian.

 

With a jolt that nearly had her doubling over Emma realized that she’d have to send Killian away.  She hated to even think it but without knowing who he was, what they truly faced, he was a liability and a distraction she couldn’t afford.  Killian would hate her for doing it. She knew she had no other choice.

 

Blinking rapidly she came back to herself and realized that not only was Killian saying something to her but he was looking at her desperately as he gently cradling her face with hand and arm.

 

“Emma.  Come on, talk to me lass.  Emma?”

 

She placed her hands on his elbows and took a shuddering breath, “I need you to do something for me.”

 

“Anything.  Whatever you want, I swear,” he breathed in relief. “Jesus, you had me worried there.  What’s going on? Please tell me you don’t believe the bullshit she’s spouting-”

 

“I do,” she said sadly, fighting against tears.  She squeezed his arms to focus back on her as he began to protest, “I don’t trust her but I do believe her and this is something I need to take care of.”

 

“Emma-”

 

“We did need a distraction,” she said as she shrugged helplessly.

 

“No,” he said, horrified, dropping his arms to his side.  He shook his head, “You promised you’d stay out of it.”

 

“I promised I wouldn’t get arrested,” she said softly. “You’ll have to keep Walsh busy to prevent that from happening.”

 

“If you think I’m going to let you go off with her-” Killian blew out a breath and scrubbed his hand over his face. “No, I’m going with you.”

 

“Please,” she said tremulously, the tears she’d tried to stave off spilling over. “Please do this for me.  I can’t risk you being there.”

 

“Emma,” he whispered sounding torn, his features twisted in indecision.

 

“You said whatever I want-” she took in a shuddering breath, “This is what I want.  I need to know you’re safe.”

 

Killian rocked back slightly at her confession.  She tried to communicate everything she was feeling with only a look as his eyes danced across her face.  His gaze softened and she could see the resignation in it as he gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

 

“Okay,” he said brokenly. “I’ll do this but for one thing in return.”

 

“What?”

 

“To let me stay, for now,” he murmured.  He gave her a pained half-smile, “You’re not the only one gets to be concerned.”

 

Emma wanted to say no, to send him away before anything else came crashing down on her, but she couldn’t do it.  She would allow herself one last moment of selfishness.

 

“Just for now.  When I say you have to go-”

 

“I’ll go.”

 

“And I’m going to go throw up if I have to listen to this drivel any longer,” Zelena snapped. “Might as well just break the-”

 

“Zelena!” Emma interrupted quickly.  She turned to look up to where she was glaring at them from a few steps away, “We don’t have time for that.  You need to tell me why Marty was helping you and how Gold can be awake when no one else is.”

 

“Fine,” Zelena sniffed as she moved to sit across from her. “But this would be easier if we had an army instead of your band of misfits to help us.”

 

“We wouldn’t have an army,” Emma bit out, aware of Killian and Pinocchio listening closely to their every word. “How did this happen?  How long...”

 

“Until he comes to rip all of our spines out while he laughs?” Zelena asked sardonically. “We have until sundown to give him what he wants.  After that Marty is the first to die.”

 

“Why isn’t the Sheriff taking care of this?” Pinocchio asked bewildered.

 

“That idiot would only speed up the process,” Zelena huffed, waving him off.  She looked at Emma with a raised brow, “Do we have to keep these two around?”

 

“I’m not going anywhere-”

 

“This is my library-”

 

“-wants me here and I’ll be damned-”

 

“-had enough of you walking all over-”

 

“-talking about murder-”

 

“As if you two morons could actually do anything-”

 

“STOP!”

 

The lights above her flickered wildly as all eyes swivelled to her.

 

“Tell me what happened,” she said with deadly calm.

 

“I tried to get you to do it-” Zelena sniffed, “When I came to your boat on Founder’s Day but you didn’t want to hear it.”

 

“I do now,” she said as she crossed her arms.

 

“The Dark One had something of mine-”   
  


“What?”

 

Zelena’s lip curled annoyance, “A pendant that looks like an emerald.  It was given to me by a coven a long time ago to harness and enhance my powers.  The only drawback was that without it I would be completely powerless. When I woke up in this land I wasn’t wearing it and I wrongly assumed it was merely because this is the Land Without Magic.  It wasn’t until I saw it in Gold’s shop that I learned differently.”

 

“Why not buy it from him?  Or steal it yourself?” Emma asked, avoiding Killian and Pinocchio’s gaping at the mentions of magic she could see out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Unfortunately his penchant for making deals and coming out ahead wasn’t purged from his cursed memory.  He sensed that I desperately wanted it and deemed it not for sale. It pissed me off but I convinced myself I had no need of it as long as the curse held.  Then you popped up in town.”

 

“Ruining everything.  I get it,” she sighed.

 

“Once I was certain it was you, come to be the hero, I knew I needed a bit of insurance,” Zelena continued as though Emma hadn’t spoken. “Luckily for me someone in your motley crew actually listened when I said I had something we’d need.  He was so eager to please, to prove himself it wasn’t hard at all to convince him to get my pendant back and he did.”

 

“You have it?” Emma asked surprised.

 

“Of course I do-” Zelena pulled down the green silk scarf wrapped around her neck to reveal a large emerald gem nestled at the base of her throat, “I knew you’d decide to break the curse and I needed insurance for when you did.  My mistake was being greedy.”

 

“Your mistake was attacking my kingdom,” Emma growled, too angry to try to watch her words.

 

“You two are joking right?” Pinocchio broke in, looking disbelievingly between them. “Powers, curses, kingdoms?  This is just some kinda prank right? Right?”

 

“If you got your pendant back how did Marty get caught?” Emma asked over Pinocchio’s questions.

 

“There were silver slippers, capable of travelling realms-”

 

“You were going to run,” Emma snorted in disbelief. “You had your magic back, you knew I had decided to break the curse, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he came for you.”

 

“It’s easy to stay alive when you have every advantage at your disposal,” Zelena said airily.

 

“That’s why Marty’s been sneaking away from Roland and Turner,” Emma said, the truth slamming into her. “It’s why he’s started lashing out, trying to prove himself.”

 

“Men are so easy to manipulate, teenagers even more so,” Zelena said with a smile.

 

“But he got caught and your head is first on the chopping block,” Emma snapped. “How is he awake?  I haven’t broken the curse yet.”

 

“There must have been some trigger, something he weaved into the curse itself to wake him before anyone else.”

 

Killian scoffed in disbelief.  Emma was surprised it took him that long to make his sentiments known.  She looked at him but he was glaring down at the table, avoiding her gaze.

 

“But what does he want?” She asked, reluctantly turning back to Zelena.

 

“This-” Zelena touched the gem at her throat, “and I don’t know why so don’t even bother asking.”

 

“You can’t give it to him,” Emma said with a frown.

 

“I had no intention to,” Zelena said, recoiling in horror. “That’s as good as suicide.”

 

“And we’ll need Regina-”

 

“Like hell!  That second-rate waste of space-”

 

“Is the only other person who knows magic, has dealt with the Dark One and this curse and is already awake,” Emma said, daring Zelena to contradict her. “Like it or not having her on our our side is the best chance we have if we even want a hope of defeating him.”

 

“Unbelievable-” Zelena threw up her arms, “No matter what I do she’s always there, like a leech latching on and taking everything I’ve worked for.”

 

“Believe me when you can take full responsibility for this,” Emma muttered, rolling her eyes at Zelena’s outburst.  She didn’t blink at her returning glare, “We have until sundown?”

 

“Yes,” Zelena said, her eyes darting toward the window.  When she looked back the fear had returned, “Only eight hours or so until we’re all done for.”

 

“Less,” Emma said grimly.   
  


“What?” Zelena asked startled.

 

Emma turned to Pinocchio, “I need you to go Granny’s and find the men from my crew.  Tell them the Dark One’s awake, they’ll come right away.”

 

“But none of this makes any sense,” Pinocchio sputtered. “Why would they believe me?  I haven’t even met them.”

 

“They’ll come.  Go, we don’t have much time.”

 

“We have until sundown!” Zelena protested.

 

“Go,” she urged Pinocchio.  He gave her a helpless look before sighing in resignation and limping out of the library.  She turned to Zelena, “You need to go get Regina. She’s staying at that cottage in the woods-”

 

“Like hell I’m going to get her, you do it.”

 

“I need to get some things from my ship-”

 

“A sword is useless against the Dark One,” Zelena said with a scoffing laugh, “Not to mention he’s already dead-”

 

“How about some of the books I stole from your cellar?” Emma spat out. “Do you think any of those might be useful?”

 

Zelena sniffed, “Perhaps.”

 

“Then you go get Regina and I’ll go get the books.  We’ll meet back here and prepare to go up against the Dark One before he expects us.”

 

“A sneak attack?” Zelena asked taken aback.

 

“It’s the best bet we have at winning this thing,” Emma said confidently, even as she felt the opposite.

 

“I can’t believe it’s come to this,” Zelena muttered as she stood, “If I had my magic-”

 

“You don’t, so go,” Emma said shortly.

 

Zelena left, not without more muttering following in her wake.  Emma sighed in relief but it was short lived. Killian hadn’t said a word or even moved once her and Zelena had started talking.  She was suddenly afraid that she had pushed him too far and he’d decided to give up on her completely.

 

“Kieran?”

 

“We should go, lass, if you intend to meet everyone back here shortly.”

 

He didn’t look at her as he stood or when he turned to walk back the way they had come.  She stood quickly and trailed helplessly behind him, trying to discern from the set of his shoulders the state of his mind.  The only thing she could tell for sure was that he didn’t have the right words to say anything to her yet but when he did it wouldn’t bode well for either of them.

 

As they wend their way to the Jewel she tried to think of anything to say to head off what was sure to be a fight to rival their one from Founder’s Day.  Nothing worth saying was coming to her but she did notice that he wasn’t taking care to keep them concealed. They were walking along the main roadways, passing numerous townsfolk who were left gaping in their wake.  She realized as they reached the docks that it was as though Killian was hoping someone would alert Walsh to his whereabouts, as though he wanted nothing more than to be arrested instead of dealing with everything that had happened in the library.

 

Emma quickened her steps as they neared the slip the Jewel was in.  She needed to get ahead him, both physically and in preparation for his anger being let loose.  It wasn’t until she was halfway up the gangplank to the Jewel that she looked back at him, ready for whatever he threw at her.

 

“Permission to come aboard?” Killian said with a poor attempt at a smile.

 

“Of course,” she said with a brittle smile of her own.

 

They silently made their way to her cabin through the hatch on deck.  She stepped down first, quickly crossing to grab her sword and scabbard from beside the head of her bed as Killian carefully made his way down.  Once he stepped off the ladder he moved toward the corner where she had hidden the books from the cellar, as she watched him with trepidation. Her sword nearly slipped through her fingers in shock when he pulled out the story book that was about him instead.

 

“You told me that everything in this book actually happened,” he said softly, even as his knuckles were white with how tightly he was gripping the book.  He frowned down at it, “That it’s all real. The- the pirates and the princes and- and the magic? How can it be real? None of this is real!”

 

Emma jumped as he hurled the book across the cabin in his frustration.  She slowly set her sword back down before raising her hands in a calming gesture.  He was breathing hard, his eyes wide with confusion and anger. With careful steps she moved toward where the book was splayed on the floor.

 

“It seems like it’s impossible but it’s not,” she said, her voice wavering.  She bent down to pick up the book and flipping it over found it had opened to the illustration of Killian professing his love for her before the curse took him away.  Tracing his features with her finger she frowned, “I know you don’t believe me. I’m sure you think I’m crazy or that Viridans has manipulated me somehow or you’re hoping it’s a dream but this… this is the truth.  This book is what’s real.”

 

Killian remained silent.  After counting to five she took a steadying breath and looked up at him.  He was frowning, his eyes guiltily looking from her to the book and back. It was clear that he truly didn’t believe her and it broke her heart.

 

“It’s okay, Jones,” she said with a small nod.  He looked at her, stricken, and she gave him a tremulous smile, “You should go.  We didn’t exactly conceal ourselves on our way here, Walsh will be looking for you.”

 

“Lass…”

 

“You promised.  I let you stay and now I’m asking you to go,” she said firmly, an ache yawning in her chest.

 

“Emma-”

 

He stepped towards her, his hand stretched towards her and she stepped to the side, “Please, just go.”

 

“Alright,” he sighed.  He moved towards the ladder but paused with one foot on the bottom rung, “I may not believe in that bloody book but I believe in you.  Whatever it is you’re facing you’ll come out the victor and I’ll be waiting for you.”

 

Emma choked back a sob as he began to climb.  Before she knew what she was doing she dropped the book to the floor and was grabbing his ankle to tug him back down.  He jumped down with a bewildered but hopeful look that turned to shock as she dragged the chain with his ring on it over her head.

 

“Take this-”

 

“No, Emma, I can’t,” he protested, holding his hand and arm up as though to push it away. “It means too much to you.”

 

“Less than what it used to.  Less than what you mean to me now,” she said vehemently.  She held it out to him, the ring swinging gently on the chain, “You can give it back to me after.  I promise.”

 

Killian looked at her with awe and with something Emma refused to acknowledge, even if it made her heart jump into her throat.  Slowly he nodded and flipped his hand so his palm was up and positioned under the ring. She let the chain go, feeling as though she was letting her heart go with it, and watched as Killian’s fingers wrapped around the ring as soon as it hit his palm.

 

The moment it was firmly in his grasp his head bowed over as though someone was pushing against the back of it.  His hand was shaking and the knuckles were white. With a strangled gasp his head snapped back, his eyes wide and unseeing as the tendons in his neck stood out with the strain of a silent scream.  Emma rocked forward helplessly, her hands stretched out to help him when just as suddenly he collapsed to the floor, as though he were a puppet and his strings had been cut.

 

“Killian!”

 

Emma dropped to her knees at Killian’s side, her hands fluttering uselessly over him.  He gave a deep groan and she nearly sobbed in relief. Instead she bit her lip and gently placed her hand on his back, needing to feel his heartbeat under her palm.

 

He groaned again, “‘M alright, love, ‘m alright.”

 

She froze at the achingly familiar endearment.  In all the time since she’d found him he’d only ever called her ‘lass’ never ‘love’.  She made to pull her hand away when Killian quickly lifted himself up and grasped it, the ring dangling on its chain between them.

 

“Don’t,” he looked at her with tears brimming in his eyes, his smile wobbly and bright.

 

“Killian?”

 

“Swan… love... Emma, I remember.”

 

Emma felt as if all the air in her lungs had been replaced with molasses.  As she fought for a single breath she realized she was shaking uncontrollably.  Her vision blurred and she suddenly began crying in high pitched, gasping sobs. They only increased when she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her into his embrace.

 

Slowly her sobs calmed down to a mere steady stream of tears.  She became aware of the fierce grip she had on his coat, her arms aching from how tightly she was holding onto him.  Killian seemed no better, she could feel a wet warmth at the curve of her neck where his head was cradled and he was trembling almost as much as she was.  He was murmuring gently and it took a moment before she understood what he was saying.

 

“You found me.  You did it. I knew you’d do it, love.  I knew you’d find me.”

 

“I missed you,” she whispered in his ear once she felt she could speak without her words breaking apart on every syllable.

 

He pulled back, barely far enough away for her to focus on the red rimming his eyes or the tears clinging to his lashes.

 

“And I you, Swan, even if I didn’t know it.”

 

She gave a watery laugh, one that sounded closer to her sobs than an expression of joy.  He moved, seemingly to gather her back in his arms but she stopped him with a hand over his heart.

 

“You left before I could tell you.”

 

“Tell me what, love?” He asked with a slight furrow to his brow.

 

“That I love you too,” she said, flexing her fingers on his chest as she let her lips lift in a smile.

 

“You’re impossible,” he breathed out with a chuckle, his hand cupping her cheek as his thumb traced her bottom lip.

 

“You love me for it,” she teased, even as he brushed away fresh tears.

 

“Aye, I do.”

 

Emma closed what little distance there was between them to capture his lips with hers.  She felt as though the light of a thousand suns was pouring out of her and that even the air around them couldn’t remain still in their utter happiness and love.  With a slight tilt of his head he deepened the kiss seemingly eager to both devour and cherish her. His hand lightly travelled down her neck as his arm pulled her impossibly closer, a slight whimper leaving one or both of their throats.  It was only when she began to cry again that they reluctantly parted.

 

Killian pressed his forehead to hers as he once more wiped away her tears.

 

“I’m so sorry, love.”

 

“No, I’m sorry,” she said with a tiny shake of her head, not willing to fully break any point of contact they had. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

 

“You never need apologize for crying in front of me, Swan,” he assured her as his nose gently brushed hers. “I meant I’m sorry for everything else.”

 

“What do you mean?” She asked, her hands tracing along his features, the lines of his shoulders and arms, all the things she hadn’t been able to touch since she’d found him.

 

“That I sent you away, that you’ve had to do this on your own, how terribly I’ve treated you these past weeks.  Everything,” he whispered brokenly.

 

He began to pull away from her but she held him in place.

 

“I won’t lie and say it was easy,” she began shakily, “There were a lot of times I just wanted to give up or take something that made me forget how much I missed you but then I would remember your smile or how much you believed in me and I kept going.  You kept me going.”

 

“How long?” He asked.  She shook her head at him, confused, and he clarified, “I have all these memories, a whole lifetime of them, but it also feels like only yesterday that we were separated.  How long have we been apart?”

 

Emma hesitated, not sure how he would react to the truth.  Killian noticed and winced, giving her all the incentive she needed to tell him.

 

“It’s been over a year since Zelena cast the curse.”

 

“Shit, Emma,” he breathed. “Over a year?  And then you got here and I treated you like… like a piece of meat!  Jesus, Swan, how can you even stand the sight of me?”

 

He did pull away from her then with a look of self loathing twisting his features.  She didn’t let him get far, grasping his hand tight enough that it had to be painful for him.

 

“If you think a little flirting and a leer or two is all it takes to offend me then you’ll be shocked to hear that I’ve had much worse-” she let her lips curl into a wicked grin, “or that I kinda liked it.”

 

“God, I love you,” Killian sighed as he tugged her back to him.

Before she could completely lose herself in him again the sound of someone running across the deck over their heads interrupted them.  Hearing someone frantically calling out her name had her jumping to her feet and rushing up the ladder with Killian close behind.

 

When Emma stepped on deck she saw it was David, standing beside the door leading down into the hold.  He was half turned toward them and his fist was raised as though he was moments away from banging it heavily against the door.  When he turned to face them fully she was shocked to see tears streaking down his cheeks.

 

“David?  What's wro-”

 

She was cut off by his crossing to her in three large strides and dragging her into his chest, wrapping her in arms that were still strong after too many years in a prison.  He held onto her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. She was able to move her hand enough to awkwardly pat his side in an attempt at comfort as his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, fighting against even more tears at the old familiarity of the gesture.

 

“Er, Nolan?”

 

David released her with a shaky laugh but kept a light grip on her upper arms.  His eyes danced across her face greedily. Emma suddenly found herself filled with a cautious hope.

 

“Dad?”

 

“I always knew you could do it,” David murmured, a smile curling his lips. “My swan princess.  Your mother would be so proud.”

 

It was all Emma could do to throw herself back into David’s arms, clinging to him just as hard as he had her moments before.  She had thought that she had no tears left but she felt them coursing down her cheeks nonetheless. David was once more crushing her to his chest, lifting her up onto her toes, but she only tightened her own grip, sobbing into his shoulder.

 

When he finally lowered her back down to the flats of her feet she immediately reached her hand behind her.  Killian grasped her hand quickly and she stepped back to tuck herself into his side. David watched them with a look that she was dismayed to realize was one of disapproval.

 

“Dad, this is Killian-”

 

“Heir presumptive to the crown of Balliolshire and notorious rake if I’m to believe what I’ve been told,” David said with a frown. “He wasn’t a much better man as Kieran Jones either.”

 

“Dad,” Emma warned, ready to defend Killian wholeheartedly. “If you really knew him you’d know that stuff isn’t true.”

 

David ignored her and focused his glare on Killian who tightened his grip on her hand and stood slightly taller under the scrutiny.

 

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, I-”

 

“I have never trusted Balliolshire and the same undoubtedly goes for its princes-”

 

“Dad!”

 

“-but knowing that you share True Love with my daughter might be enough to change my mind.”

 

“What?”

 

“But how?”

 

Emma’s thoughts were reeling.  She had all but given up hope of breaking the curse with True Love’s kiss, especially with Killian stubbornly choosing to not believe in who he really was.  With a small gasp she realized that Killian’s memories had returned before they had shared a rather passionate kiss. She had dismissed the sunshine and light wind she’d felt at the time as nothing more than her elated imagination running away with itself.  Killian gently tugged on her hand and she turned to face him, still reeling from the revelation.

 

“Were you not sure?” He asked, trepidation swimming in his blue eyes

 

“I was,” she assured him quickly.  His worry melted into awe and she gave him a shy smile, “I was.  It’s just… it doesn’t work when one person doesn’t remember the other and you were so damn stubborn about believing but I knew you still cared about me?  Then you remembered and I was so happy to have you back I didn’t even think about what kissing you would do.”

 

“And what a kiss it was,” he teased, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

 

“It was bad enough watching you two before,” David groaned but when Emma looked back at him he was smiling widely.  It dimmed a little as he looked between them, “I’ve missed so much.”

 

“Yeah,” she said sadly. “But you’re here now.”

 

“Your mother?” He asked suddenly, eyes wide. “What about your mother?”

 

“She’s fine or, er, she was when I left,” Emma said hesitantly.  When David made a distressed sound in his throat she hurried to continue, “I got her back from where Zelena had kept her and we went home but King George had decided to attack while Misthaven was vulnerable.  Other kingdoms were on their way to help but Mom and Liam insisted I come here.”

 

“Liam?” Killian whispered in surprise.

 

“It’s why I’m sailing the Jewel,” she said with a smile. “And why Turner is here too.”

 

“I did wonder about that-” he smirked.

 

“But Snow she’s- she’s okay?” David interrupted.

 

“She misses you and she loves you-” Emma reached towards him with her free hand and he gripped it tightly in his own.  Suddenly remembering what else Snow had told her she smirked, “She also said that when you get home you’ll have to finally decide what to do about George.”

 

“Of course she did,” he sighed good naturedly with a wide grin. “Where was she-”

 

David was cut off by the sound of a high pitched screeching and the slamming of doors.  Emma could hear two voices arguing with each other as feet pounded down the dock towards them.  She moved quickly to the rail and saw Regina and Zelena practically running towards the Jewel.

 

“I can’t believe you thought now was a great time to break the curse!” Regina yelled up at her as she reached the gangplank.

 

“And I can’t believe that I’m going to say this but I agree with her,” Zelena scoffed, half a step behind Regina.  She sneered at them as she stepped on board, “Now that you’ve broken the curse the Dark One won’t wait until sundown.  We’ll be lucky if he gives us an hour.”

 

“The Dark One?” David asked, alarmed.

 

“Aye,” Killian answered. “Seems he was somehow awoken before the rest of us and is holding a lad hostage.”

 

“That’s not the worst part,” Emma growled.

 

“What could possibly be worse?” Killian asked, bewildered.

 

“To cast the curse she-” Emma pointed accusingly at Zelena, “decided that crushing the Dark One’s heart was the way to do it.”

 

“How is he still alive and who is he here?” David looked between them all, his nostrils flaring as his gaze slid over Regina and Zelena.  His jaw was ticking when he looked back at her, “Why are they here?”

 

“Because this town is full of imbeciles and have never had to contend with the Dark One before,” Zelena sneered.

 

“He taught us both how to use our magic,” Regina huffed with a roll of her eyes. “Together we might be able to come up with a plan to stop him.  It helps that he doesn’t have magic but with no heart he’s capable of doing whatever it takes to get what he wants.”

 

“But who is he?” David snapped.

 

“It’s the man who runs that shop filled with bits of everything, Gold,” Emma cut in before Zelena or Regina could antagonize him further. “And we don’t know how he’s still alive either.”

 

“You know, when I left to go get my dear sister I thought you were coming here for those books you stole from me,” Zelena said pointedly. “Perhaps the answer is in one of those but if it’s not a priority…”

 

“Oh, shut up Inept Witch of the West,” Regina sniped. “You’ve caused enough problems.”

 

“As if you’re any better,” Zelena scoffed. “If you’d had any backbone you would have cast this curse as soon as Rumple gave it to you.  Instead you’ve spent the last decade locked up in a tower because you’re weak. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

 

Regina’s eyes narrowed to slits as her hand flexed at her side.  Emma was infinitely glad that there was no magic in Storybrooke but her patience was wearing thin with the two women.  She was about to say as much when she heard someone calling out her name from a distance.

 

Looking towards the shore she saw Turner running full tilt towards them.  Killian gave a small sound of recognition beside her but she couldn’t acknowledge it.  Whatever it was that had Turner racing to the Jewel was bound to leave no time for joyful reunions.

 

“He has him!  Dark One has Marty!” Turner yelled as he tore down the dock. “He’s waiting!  Clocktower! At the Clocktower!”

 

He tripped up the gangplank, breathing hard as he stumbled on deck.  Killian quickly moved to steady him. Seeing the normally composed Turner so distressed had Emma feeling as though she also needed Killian’s help to remain upright.

 

“Turner, take a breath,” she said brusquely, slipping into the tone she used as captain. “I know about Marty but tell me what’s happened.  Quickly please.”

 

Turner sucked in a deep breath, “We were just heading to Granny’s when the curse broke.  There was a lot of confusion as people took to the streets to try and find their loved ones.  Roland and I were looking for Robin when Pinocchio came up and told us about the Dark One. Not a moment later he walked out of his shop with a knife at Marty’s throat, demanding that someone bring Zelena to him.”

 

“Well, you can be certain that I’m not going,” Zelena scoffed.

 

“Yes you are,” Emma commanded.  She nodded at Turner who grabbed onto her wrists.  Ignoring her squawks of protest Emma turned to her father, “Down in the hold is the weapons cache, there should be enough swords for you, Killian and Turner.  We should be able to convince him to let Marty go by merely outnumbering him but we can’t take any chances.”

 

“Emma…” David started forward with a frown.

 

“Please, Dad, we don’t have time.”

 

David gave her a tight nod, frown still in place.  He quickly disappeared below deck and she turned to Regina.

 

“Regina can you operate Zelena’s car?”

 

“Of course,” Regina said with a tilt of her head. “Why?”

 

“You’ll take Zelena and Turner back into town but keep out of sight of the Dark One.  Wait until we approach him to show yourselves. Then we can work on negotiating a trade for-”

 

“You bitch!  Giving him this pendant is just as good as driving a sword through me yourself!  Some Savior you are,” Zelena snarled, her face red with rage.

 

“I wasn’t going to actually give it to him if I can help it,” Emma said calmly even as she balled her hands into fists against the trembling that had started in them.  “But just know that if it comes down to your precious magic emerald or Marty’s life I won’t hesitate for a second.”

 

“You know I had trouble believing you, daughter of the insipidly perfect Snow and noble to a fault David, had turned to piracy but I can see it now,” Regina said with a glint of something like triumph in her eyes. “I bet you’ve seen your own fair share of darkness, perhaps even in the mirror.”

 

“After my dad brings up the swords get them to town,” Emma said shortly in response. “We’ll be right behind you.”

 

Regina nodded in acquiescence but there was a troubling edge to her small smile.  With no further instructions to give and barely able to keep herself together she moved quickly to the hatch leading to her quarters.  She knew Killian would follow her without hesitation and quickly realized that it was no longer a question that he would, nearly causing her to break down in tears once more.

 

The moment she stepped off the ladder she immediately began pacing the length of the cabin.  Her hands were shaking uncontrollably and her mind was a near paralyzing mixture of anger and fear.  She didn’t want Killian to see her falling apart but she was loathe to send him away. As she went to stalk past him a third time he grabbed her elbow and pulled her into him.

 

“I can’t do this,” she whispered into his chest, gripping the back of his shirt as best she could with her still trembling hands.

 

“Of course you can, love,” he reassured her as his hand moved soothingly up and down her back.

 

“How?  It’s the Dark One-” she shuddered. “The last time he was defeated it took tricking him with squid ink and then a magically enforced cell to hold him.  We don’t have either of those here and with no heart he’s even more dangerous and unpredictable than before. I can’t go up against that and expect to win.”

 

“Then don’t,” he murmured into her temple.  She pulled away from him but he didn’t let her get far.  He brushed a few strands of hair out of her face as his left arm kept her close, “Am I right in thinking that there’s no magic at all here?”

 

She shook her head slowly, “Both Regina and Zelena have called this realm the Land Without Magic.  I couldn’t even do a simple cloaking spell when we first got here.”

 

“Then the Dark One is just a man, one that by all rights shouldn’t be alive, but still a man.  Your plan to have us outnumber him will work because of that,” he said, nodding his head in encouragement.

 

“As simple as that?” She asked disbelievingly.

 

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “I’m sure there will be threats issued, Zelena will no doubt try to escape or throw one of us under the bus, a drop or two of blood might be shed but we’ll prevail in the end.”

 

“I don’t remember you being this optimistic,” she said with a wry chuckle.

 

“Swan, when you’ve been living as a jaded asshole hell-bent on revenge it’s a welcome respite to actually see a bright side to things,” he said before tilted his head to gaze at her with a soft smile, “It could also be because I’m damn happy to have my memories back and with them the knowledge that you can do anything.”

 

“Yeah?  Well, I still have trouble poofing myself exactly to where I want to go,” she scoffed.

 

“Stop the Dark One and I’m sure you’ll find time to work on it.”

 

Emma huffed out a laugh causing Killian’s smile to widen.  She shook her head at him, knowing that he was both trying to distract her and bolster her confidence.  When he gently squeezed her shoulder to emphasize his attempts she knew it was working.

 

“First thing I’m going to do is poof us somewhere no one will ever find us,” she sighed, pulling out of his arms to retrieve her sword.

 

“I look forward to it, love,” Killian said, his voice dropping so it seemed to rumble out of him.  He chuckled humorlessly and sighed, “We can’t seem to catch a break can we?”

 

She paused in adjusting her sword and scabbard at her waist, turning to look at him.  He wasn’t looking at her, fiddling with the chain on his ring that was still in his grasp.  With a small sigh of her own she moved to him and placed her hand gently over his.

 

“No, but I kinda like what we have over never meeting you at all-” she ducked her head so he had no choice but to look at her, “or having to deal with the stupid courting rituals we’d have had to endure if we’d we’d met as Princess Emma and Prince Killian.”

 

Killian snorted, his eyes crinkling with a smile, “I think your father and Liam would have preferred it that way.”

 

“Emma?” David called down from above deck, as if on cue.

 

“We should go,” she said, straightening and giving Killian’s hand a squeeze.

 

“Aye, but before we do-” Killian twisted their hands around so that her palm was facing up and dangled the chain over her hand, holding onto the ring, “If you’d give me a hand, love.”

 

“Already with the jokes,” she muttered, smiling as she undid the clasp and slid the chain away.

 

“You’ve been deprived of them for over a year, Swan, can’t have you feeling too left out.”

 

“I’m honored,” she quipped as he deftly maneuvered the ring with his fingers onto his thumb.

 

“As you should be,” he said with a smirk. “Shall we?”

 

When they emerged on deck only David remained.  He already had a sword at his hip, holding another in his hand for Killian.

 

“I, uh, assume your sword arm wasn’t your left?” David asked, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

 

“You’ve seen me sign my release papers,” Killian said dryly, then seemed to remember himself, “Er, you assume correctly, Your Majesty.”

 

“Jesus, Jones” David said with a shake of his head. “We can hold off on the formalities until we’re back home.  Here-”

 

He held out the sword for Killian as Emma stifled a laugh behind her hand.  Her father had never been one to stand on formalities with family or close friends before.  That David was already doing the same for Killian despite having just learned of his place in her life said more about his acceptance of him than anything else.  The thought of the two of them getting along had her smiling and feeling marginally more hopeful about their odds.

 

“Need help, Your Highness?” Emma teased as se watched Killian try to fasten the scabbard at his waist.

 

“Ha, bloody, ha Swan,” he grumbled.  Then with a teasing grin of his own, “You know I’d always thought you’d be trying to remove my belt, not get it secured further.”

 

“I can hear you,” David grumbled.

 

Emma sniggered as she fastened the belt around his waist, careful to keep her hands and eyes from drifting from her task.  Killian’s hand twitched at his side and the sight of it had her smile widening. David cleared his throat and she stepped back, rolling her eyes at his over protectiveness.

 

“The others are on their way?” She asked, moving toward the gangplank.

 

“Zelena tried to put up a fight but, uh, Turner?” David asked in confirmation. She nodded as they disembarked one after the other, “He ended up gagging her.  Regina was pleased about that.”

 

“I’m sure she was,” she muttered.

 

As they made their way up the dock David took the lead.  Killian’s hand slipped into hers as David directed them toward his large, open backed car.  She twined their fingers together, tugging him to her side.

 

“We won’t have enough room in the cab for us and our swords,” David explained as he unlocked the door of the helm side.

 

“I’ll ride in the back then,” Killian offered, pulling away from her to walk towards the back.  She stopped him with a tug on his hand. He turned with a quizzical look that softened as he seemed to realize that she was hesitant to let him go, “It’s only a short trip, love, and I’ve had my time to reunite with you.  Go on, it’s been a much longer stretch since you’ve seen him compared to me.”

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

With far less reluctance she let him go and joined her father in the front of the car.  As soon as he determined that Killian was seated he started it up and began their trek into town.

 

“I’m glad you kept up with the sword,” David said conversationally after a few silent moments.

 

“It was easier than trying to shoot a bow and arrow, especially on a ship,” she said as she ran her fingers over the hilt. “I was always better with a blade anyway.  Mom knew that no matter how many times she forced me on the archery range.”

 

“We both knew it, but she always held out hope you’d at least pretend to enjoy it,” he paused. “You, uh, you took to the seas… after?”

 

“We tried banditry but like archery Mom was much better at it,” she said dropping her gaze to her lap. “Sailing away seemed to be our only option and I realized that I liked it.  Once we started going after Zelena’s ships it became my way of fighting back. Until Killian came along, that is.”

 

“The Prince of Balliolshire,” David hummed, shaking his head. “How did you come across him?”

 

“He was looking for me, actually,” she said glancing back at Killian, “I found him first.  Knocked him out and tied him to a tree for his trouble.”

 

David barked out a surprised laugh, “That’s my girl.”

 

“Were you-” Emma broke off, afraid to ask the question that plagued her but needing to know the answer. “Were you ever hurt?  In the castle’s cells, did Zelena tor- torture you?”

 

“Not physically, no,” David said, frowning.  He glanced at her and sighed, “Zelena is much better at messing with a person’s mind.  It wasn’t easy to stomach but I knew if she was doing nothing more than taunting me with images of you or your mother then there was still hope.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I was kept alive because I was still useful and I was only useful if you were still alive.  I knew that every day that ended with me still breathing it was another day that you had survived.  I could have withstood any kind of torture as long as I held onto that.”

 

“Daddy-” Emma whispered, the tears she thought she was done shedding pooling once again in her eyes, “I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner.”

 

“Hey, hey-” David chided gently.  He reached out and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her across to the seat into his side, “Don’t beat yourself up over something you had no control over.  If you had tried who knows what Zelena would have done to you or any of us. Everything happens for a reason and in its own time.”

 

“Fate,” she said almost dejectedly, the word ‘savior’ ringing in her head.

 

“Yes, it can be cruel but-” he glanced in the mirror attached to the front glass, no doubt looking at the reflection of the back of Killian’s head, “it can also put us on the path for greater things.  At least that’s how it felt when I met your mother.”

 

“I’ll get you back to her,” Emma promised.

 

“I know you will,” he said confidently, squeezing her shoulder gently.

 

It was a quiet ride for the last stretch into town.  Emma tried her best to keep her thoughts solely on how she would get Marty out of the Dark One’s grasp alive.  However when they made the final turn onto the main roadway and saw the crowd gathered in front of the library dread settled in her stomach and her mind was filled with what seemed like the sound of a thousand bees.

 

David rolled to a stop far enough away from the library that they drew no attention.  She let herself out of his car and on unsteady legs. When Killian swung over the side of the car’s bed she immediately reached out for him, barely able to grasp his hand with how badly her hands were shaking.

 

“Swan?”

 

“Killian- I ca- how am I supposed to- what if- Marty-”

 

“Emma, calm down, love,” Killian murmured, looking over her head for a moment but focusing back on her quickly.  He placed his forehead on hers, “Breathe. Come on, deep breath for me.”

 

Pulling in an unsteady breath she kept her eyes on Killian as his hand went to her cheek and his left arm to her shoulder.  She felt a third point of pressure between her shoulder blades and was able to breathe a little deeper knowing that her dad was behind her, supporting her as well.  With another shuddering breath she placed her hand over Killian’s heart and finally began to settle herself in time with the steady beat.

 

“There we go, Swan, breathe nice and easy-” his blue eyes flicked between hers, full of concern, “We just need to free Marty.  That’s all. The Dark One has no magic. Remember that, he has no magic.”

 

“He’s just a man,” Emma assured herself.

 

“That’s right,” Killian said with an encouraging nod. “You’re Captain Swan, scourge of the seas.  You’ve outsmarted me more times than I’d like to admit in front of your father. You’ve stormed two palaces more than ready to go up against Zelena.  You came here, you broke the curse, this right now? It’s nothing more than a walk in the park for you, love.”

 

“You have always been able to accomplish what you put your mind to,” David contributed, coming around to her side. “You kept sparring until you could finally disarm Lancelot, you convinced Red to take you to the taverns far earlier than I liked, and you were the one to show both Anton and I that a peace between him and our kingdom would benefit us all.  You did that all of that and so much more.”

 

Emma gave a wan smile, bolstered by both of their encouragements.  She tipped her forehead to meet Killian’s, closing her eyes, “An island.”

 

“What?”

 

“When this is over and we've won I'm poofing us to a deserted island with enough provisions to last us for months-” she pulled back, opening her eyes and giving him a stern look. “Got it?”

 

“As you wish, Swan,” he replied with a gentle smile, his thumb brushing her cheek.

 

“Okay-” she took a deep breath and turned to look down the roadway, “Let’s go.”

 

At first, when they reached the edges of the crowd, no one took notice as they moved through them towards the center of the gathering.  Then, as Emma began to recognize the faces around her they started murmuring her name causing it to ripple outward. Soon enough the crowd parted, leaving a clear path to where the Dark One was standing in the middle of the roadway with Marty next to him, a gold hilted dagger pressed to his side.

 

“Well, well, dearie,” the Dark One said with a mirth filled trill, “I see you’ve heeded my summons, although you took plenty of time to get here and without what I want.  Seems as though this young thief’s life isn’t as precious as a reunion with your lover or your father.”

 

Emma didn’t rise to the taunt, pressing her lips together as she scanned the crowd.  She could see Red standing beside Granny, wide smiles on both their faces despite the worry in their eyes.  Charlotte and Pinocchio were standing near them, with grim smiles of their own. A fleeting sense of relief swooped through her as her gaze passed over Grace with her arms around her children.  Her stomach twisted itself back up at the sight of Roland, Robin Hood and Little John standing slightly in front of the rest, tension in their shoulders and their eyes trained on the Dark One.

 

“How did you wake up before the curse was broken?” She asked, eyes still flicking across the crowd looking for Turner and the others.

 

“Stalling for time?  How trite,” the Dark One said with a sneer.  He lazily adjusted the tie of his dark, fitted suit, “But I’ll indulge you seeing as you clearly have no better plan.

 

“I couldn’t cast the curse myself, due to-” he twirled his wrist over Marty’s head, a wicked gleam in his eye, “extenuating circumstances but I couldn’t allow myself to be fully at the whim of whomever did cast it.  I weaved a trigger into the curse, one that would wake me up when the time was right. Of course you flitting about town under a fake name delayed it somewhat.”

 

“What does my name have to do with it?” She asked in surprise.

 

“Didn’t those flittering imbeciles teach you anything?” He sneered. “Names have power, dearie, and yours held the key to my release.  You have the boy here to thank for that.”

 

“I’m sorry, Emma!” Marty cried out, wincing when the Dark One pressed the dagger deeper into his side.

 

“It’s alright, Marty,” she reassured him.  She caught a glimpse of Turner making his way towards her and quickly focused on the Dark One to keep him from noticing him as well, “Why do you need that pendant?  It can’t do you any good here.”

 

“Oh, but it can,” the Dark One hissed. “And if you don’t bring it to me, well, I can’t be blamed for my actions.”

 

Marty winced again and she stepped forward, Killian, Roland, Robin and Little John doing the same.  Emma could see Zelena, still gagged, being pushed hurriedly through the front of the crowd by Turner, Regina following in their wake.  The Dark One giggled as he stepped backward, keeping himself and Marty equidistant from the three small groups that had formed against him.

 

“You’re outnumbered, Dark One.  You have no magic. So let Marty go and there’ll be no need for you to try and fight a battle you won’t win,” Emma said, her voice steady despite the continued trembling of her hands.

 

“And why would I do that? Hmmm?” The Dark one hummed, his grin fixed in place. “A mere twist of my wrist and you’ve lost the first in a long line of deaths until I get what I want.  Just hand over the bauble and I won’t kill him. Simple as that.”

 

She unsheathed her weapon, grinning in satisfaction as Killian, David, and Turner did the same while Robin pulled a small, black pistol from the holster at his side.  The crowd moved quickly to get out of their way, clearing the space behind the Dark One completely. He merely smiled wider and moved the dagger to Marty’s neck.

 

“Intimidation tactics only work if the person feels intimidated,” he tsked. “I assure you I do not.  Give me the jewel.”

 

“No,” she said resolutely, stepping forward.

 

“Pity,” he said with a frown, “I’d hate to get blood all over my nice suit.”

 

Marty hissed in pain and Emma watched in shock as blood began to trickle down his neck.  She quickly held up her hands in supplication.

 

“Don’t give it to him!” Marty gritted out, his face ashen.

 

“I…”

 

She looked to the others and saw the same helplessness she felt mirrored back at her.  Only Zelena and Regina looked resolute about their decisions and it made her feel all the more conflicted as to what she should do.  Adjusting her grip on her sword she turned to the Dark One.

 

“How do I know you won’t kill us all once you have it?”

 

“You don’t,” the Dark One said with a shrug, moving the tip of the dagger back to Marty’s side. “But I’m more than willing to strike a deal for it or perhaps I’ll just call in that favor you owe me.  I’ll have that jewel either way.”

 

“Why do you need it so badly?  What good is it to you?” Emma asked, desperate to try and figure a way to keep Marty alive and the emerald out of the Dark One’s hands.

 

“Your ignorance of magic is truly starting to bore me,” he sighed, his eyes flashing with impatience.  His grip on the dagger adjusted enough for her to know what was coming, “Say your goodbyes.”

 

“No!”

 

Her desperate yell was echoed by others.  She stepped forward, focused on the Dark One as she raised her sword to stop him.  It was another volley of shouting that had her stumbling to a halt.

 

“Roland!”

 

“I won’t let him die!”

 

“No!”

 

Time seemed to slow as she watched helplessly as Roland ripped the emerald from Zelena’s neck.  The Dark One giggled delightedly as he stretched out his free hand for it. Roland shot her a look filled with determination and sorrow as he placed the emerald in the Dark One’s hand.  As his fingers wrapped around it he turned to look at her with a vicious grin of victory.

 

“The human heart, so predictable.”

 

That was the only warning they had before the Dark One buried the dagger into Marty’s side.  Emma felt rooted to the spot as she watched Marty fall and the Dark One disappear in a cloud of steel grey smoke.

 

Panic erupted amongst the crowd, scattering them in every direction of the compass.  She sprinted to where Marty had fallen, her crew and friends quickly following suit. When she reached him she immediately dropped to her knees and went to remove the blade.

 

“Don’t!” Robin yelled. “You’ll only make it worse!”

 

“Try and heal him,” Grace encouraged, her voice wavering. “If he has his magic back maybe you do too.”

 

“Okay, okay,” she murmured, holding her hands over Marty’s wound.  She closed her eyes and concentrated, only to feel nothing, “I can’t.  It’s not there.”

 

“How did he do it?  Was it the emerald?”

 

“Of course it was.  I told you it was a death sentence!”

 

“Give me something to staunch the wound,” she pleaded, holding out one hand as she grasped the hilt of the dagger with the other. “I’m sorry Robin but we need to take it out.”

 

“Here, love,” Killian said as he pressed a thick scarf into her hand.

 

She didn’t stop to contemplate who’s it was as she pulled the dagger out of Marty’s side and immediately put pressure on the wound.  Marty groaned, his breathing shallow. Roland knelt down beside her.

 

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t- he’s like a brother.  I’m sorry.”

 

“What’s done is done,” she said dispassionately.  She took a steadying breath and nodded down at her hands, “Keep the pressure on this.”

 

Roland quickly did as she asked.  Once his hands replaced hers she stood, ignoring the dampness on her palms that wasn’t from sweat.  The others were watching her with stricken faces as she turned to Zelena.

 

“How do we save Marty and stop the Dark One?”

 

“We can’t.  I’ve been trying to tell you that,” Zelena snapped. “He has his magic and we don’t.  Nothing in this world will stop him from destroying everything in his path.”

 

“Nothing in this world,” Emma repeated slowly.  She felt her heart beat impossibly faster, “What about ours?”

 

“What?” Regina croaked, pulling her gaze away from the fleeing townspeople.

 

“We’ll have our magic, the cell he was kept in, and that… that,” Emma grit her teeth in frustration before suddenly remembering as Zelena’s eyes widened, “Dagger!  The one she said could control him or kill him. If we can get back to our land I can heal Marty and we can stop the Dark One.”

 

“And how would we get back, Emma?” Roland asked miserably, tears dripping from his chin. “We only have the one bean left and not a lot of time.  It’ll take ages to find the Dark One, even if he didn’t have magic.”

 

“Don’ worry ‘bout me Rol,” Marty said weakly.  He coughed and a splatter of blood landed on his lips, “Get that Dark One for me, yeah?”

 

“Marty, you’re going to be fine,” Emma reassured him as much as herself as she kneeled next to him once more.  She gripped his hand in hers, “You just need to hold on. Can you do that?”

 

“I’m so sorry Emma,” he whispered, his lower lip trembling. “I just wanted to help.”

 

“I think I know a way,” Regina said hesitantly.

 

“How?” She asked, looking up at her and squeezing Marty’s hand.

 

“We destroy the curse.”

 

“Emma already broke it and we’re still here,” David growled.

 

“She broke part of it,” Regina said with a forced calm. “It’s called the Dark Curse for a reason and breaking it completely takes more than a True Love’s Kiss.”

 

“Are you mad?” Zelena asked shrilly. “You know the price-”

 

“It’s your fault we’re in this godforsaken mess,” Regina snapped.

 

“I won’t do it,” Zelena said stubbornly.

 

Emma grabbed the dagger from where she had dropped it beside Marty and sprung to her feet.  The blade was still wet with his blood and it drew a gruesome line as she held the tip against Zelena’s throat.

 

“Do it or when the Dark One comes for your heart I’ll hold you down myself.”

 

The gasps and exclamations at her statement came as no surprise to her.  What did was the feel of Killian’s arm at her lower back as he stepped up beside her.

 

“I’ll gladly assist you with that, love.  After all, she does owe me a hand.”

 

Zelena glared at them with pure fury.  She looked to the others standing there but seemed to find no sympathy.  With a snarl of frustration she dug her hand into her pocket and produced a small innocuous scroll encased in a velvet lined sheath.

 

“You had it with you the whole time?” Regina asked in shock.

 

“After she-” Zelena pointed angrily at Emma, “broke into my cellar I needed to keep it safe.  I had no intention of actually-”

 

Marty groaned deeply, mercifully cutting off Zelena’s tirade.  Emma p;aced more pressure on the blade at Zelena’s throat.

 

“Do it.”

 

“This won’t solve everything, princess.  You’re just giving him access to his full powers, which is exactly what he wants.”

 

“Then I’ll defeat him with my own magic.  Do it.”

 

With a pointed glare at the dagger from Zelena Emma pulled it back just enough so it wasn’t against her skin.  Zelena huffed in annoyance but focused on the scroll in her hands. As she unrolled it Emma could sense hesitation in her movements but made no move to hurry her along.  She didn’t want to push the woman into some sort of quick retaliation they couldn’t stop.

 

For all of Zelena’s dramatics the destruction of the curse was nothing more than ripping the scroll in two.  Emma wondered at the banality of it and the absence of any tangible results for nearly a half a minute before the ground rocked under their feet and a plume of purple and green smoke erupted from roof of the library, causing debris to rain down along the roadway.

 

They deftly dodged the falling pieces of wood, Roland shielding Marty as best he could.  Once it was only torn book pages haphazardly seesawing to the ground they all turned and stared wide eyed at the column of smoke that had also begun pouring out of the library’s windows and doors.

 

“There, happy now?” Zelena asked spitefully, tossing away the two halves of the scroll with disgust.

 

“Not at all, dearie.”

 

The Dark One had appeared suddenly behind Zelena, without a sound or a cloud of smoke to herald his arrival.  Quick as a snake and snarling like a mad dog he reached out and snapped her neck as though it were nothing more than than a brittle twig.  As Zelena’s body collapsed at his feet the Dark One turned and focused enraged yellow eyes on Emma while weapons around her were once more raised against him.

 

“You may have clipped my wings here, Savior, but mark my words the moment we return is the moment you feel my wrath.  Starting with the death of your True Love.”

 

“I’d like to see you try.”

 

The smoke began curling around their ankles and knees as Emma faced off against the Dark One.  She felt Killian’s hand slip into hers, holding onto her almost to the point of pain. The last thing she saw before the smoke obscured her vision completely were the Dark One’s eyes fixed on her, burning with malevolence.  Then she saw no more.

* * *

 

 

He sat, silently fuming as he tapped the wavy edged blade against the top of his thigh.  He had searched for it for nearly a year, combing through every conceivable hiding place the Dark One could have used.  When he had finally found it a thrill had run through him that had shaken him to his core. It was only when he tried and failed to summon the Dark One that his elation had waned.  He had been so close to getting what he had been promised and it had been snatched away from him without his knowing by a green hag that was mad with jealousy.

 

There was still the prophecy and it gave him hope that not all was lost.  He was all but certain that everything would work out in his favor. If not he was more than willing to nudge things in his favor.  It wouldn’t be the first time.

 

Suddenly the blade seemed to grow heavier in his hand, a weight seeping into it that practically hummed with power.  He carefully set it on the table in front of him, a hair's breadth away from the broken sword that matched its appearance in every way that was at his right.  The etchings on both weapons gleamed dully in the candlelight but he didn’t need the light to read the name scrawled across the shorter of the two.

 

Quickly snatching the blade back up he held it reverently in front of him.  He was unaware of the wild smile he wore or the maniacal gleam in his eyes as he took a deep, fortifying breath.

 

“Dark One, I summon thee.”

  
  


**End part 2**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first: yes this is the end of this "book". I've had it planned to end this way since even before I finished Crown and Captain. Don't worry the third and final part is already in the early planning stages.
> 
> Couple things I wanted to mention: I made the return of Killian's memories a little more dramatic than the show, mostly because how it was done on the show is really boring to write and read. Also, the extra evil Dark One was already set to happen way way before that season 7 wish!realm Dark One nonsense took place and as you saw mine will be a lot less concerned with convoluted plans...
> 
> I'll be taking a bit of a break to rest my writer's brain a little and flesh out my plans for the next installment. I promise I will be back towards the end of summer ready and raring to go. In the meantime you can find me over on tumblr (username: terreisa) and perhaps even wrangle a one shot or two out of me.
> 
> Finally I want to thank all of you lovely readers that have come with me on this journey so far. I very seriously wouldn't have kept going if I didn't know that there were people out there wanting to know what happens next. The show may be over but the encouragement and joy you have reading these fics have kept my Captain Swan muse alive. Thank you.
> 
> Next: The final battle begins.


End file.
